


Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow

by mara87



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Post Season/Series 04 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mara87/pseuds/mara87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur sends Guinevere away after what he sees as the deepest treachery against his heart.   When the true treachery begins, and his beloved Camelot is lit ablaze by those he had trusted most, he is lost in every sense.  Physically forced away from home, fate equally forces his heart to face its greatest fear, being shattered by love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Who Must Decide

**Author's Note:**

> I loved for the most part episode 4.13. I didn’t feel that way so much for ep.4.12 because I think for the lead in to the finale so much time shouldn’t have been wasted making Arthur look so silly. Any other episode it could have worked, but not this one in my opinion.

**Title:** Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow  
 **Disclaimer:** I disclaim. Merlin belongs to BBC/Shine. But some of the characters in this story are made up. The first line of the story is a quote taken directly from the show, posted in bold italics.  
 **Warnings/Spoilers:** Story has angst, violence, tension and once in a while a touch of humor. It even has some romance and A/G are endgame, but it’s not an easy route. If you thought the show rushed things a bit, like I have to admit I did, you may enjoy this.  


This story, as much as it has other characters, strongly foremost focuses on A/G. This is how things could have happened after 4.09 and 4.11, if A/G were prime center. This starts cannon (sort of, with elements I think could have been missing scenes), but after 4.11 it has huge elements that are AU. It delves backward in their relationship too, which is also very AU because we never got those scenes on the show.

Gaius has a big part in sections of this story because after Gaius was taken by Morgana in season 4, I loved the ending scene where Arthur spoke to him so frankly and listened so respectfully to Gaius’s council. Also, Gaius seemed kind of cold to the fact that Gwen was banished. I wanted to give more reason to why he would act that way and what was maybe lying underneath his words.

Lastly, the show did not reveal the truth behind the bracelet. I don’t either. Sure it would be nice to see it revealed someday, but I don’t think it was at the pinnacle of A/G’s issues anyway. That bracelet physically tore them apart, but I think emotionally much more was going on.

***

 **One:** **_He who must Decide_**

**_“I truly am sorry…”_ **

_For casting her away?_

_For grabbing her too hard?_

_For loving her in the first place so now your heart bleeds?_

The king of Camelot had no answers.

When it was over he departed the throne room first, leaving her standing there alone, crying, tears so thick on her face as if a river had flooded her skin. Shutting the door, he heard her sobs, a haunted echo of one of the worst days he’d ever lived. And yet they were supposed to be hours away from the happiest pair in Camelot.

_How quickly things could change._

_It_ hadn’t faded away with those clandestine kisses that liked to regularly assault his vision. The _love_ was still there. His heart in fact felt like it was suffocating of love, the return of it gone, now replaced by betrayal and her broken pleads. He could still hear her voice weakly tremble on that she loved him, wanted to be his wife.

_That would never happen._

She was the woman he had truly wanted, so unlike any other. She was far from idle, always working so hard around the castle, never afraid to dirty her hands or help another needing soul. And yet she gave no quarter to foolish pride or any kind of rudeness. While other women might wipe the tops of his shoes at demand if he ridiculously commanded it, she’d calmly state for him to do it himself.

That was why he couldn’t be the hand that resulted in her death. Watching her die would slay his vital sense of life. And yet because of what happened with her and Lancelot he also could not stand the thought of looking upon her face anymore. Of passing by her every day knowing what she did, what had happened, and what others would say because they _would_ talk.

He may be king, but that wouldn’t stop the gossip, the disgusted looks that would be directed her way, and the cruelties. He was respected as king. She’d be seen as a pariah. It was more than just his heart collapsing every time it would see her. It was truly about her welfare and justly the wellbeing of the kingdom. Maybe keeping her in Camelot would save her from death, but it wouldn’t save her from the scavengers wanting to tear her apart. It wouldn’t allow his heart to heal. Lastly, most practically, a queen not respected by the people would do no good for Camelot.

So he made the decision. Banish the woman he had intended to marry, who he felt for so fervently. A choice half merciful, half indulgent. His father would have disapproved. It made him shudder actually to think what his father would have done to her, how he would have _dealt_ with her for shaming the throne and his son. There were times often Arthur wished for his father to be back giving him council, but at this moment, he was thankful that he wasn’t there anymore to cast judgment.

Watching the woman he _still_ loved being committed to death, going up in flames in front of his eyes…

Would send his soul to hell.

Thank heaven he was the one now to make the decision.

“Arthur…”

It was the voice of his servant, a friend who he put his trust in. Let that trust never be broken. It might shatter him. “Not now Merlin…” He replied with toiled breaths that found it too hard to inhale, exhale. “Not now.”

The servant said nothing more. Arthur passed by him, going to his chambers, closing the doors to all life outside. Not bothering to remove his boots, not caring to change his wear, he lay down on his bed, looking up to the ceiling. He recalled how just days ago he entered the room she was tending to. Sneaking up behind he had proceeded to blindfold her. Then he took her to her house, candles just about everywhere glowing inside for the occasion.

_Haunted memories._

He pushed this one away, shaking with anger and pain. He wished he could just go to sleep, but worried it would be riddled with nightmares of that kiss and then the next and the…

His mind wanted to deny rest, but his eyes had enough. They fluttered and closed, taking him back to the throne room when he ended their commitment. When he entered she was down on her knees and even after he ushered everyone out she remained there, like some stranger, not the woman he loved. Oh how angry that made him, watching her turn into some subservient sad woman, only a shadow of her true self. He wanted her standing, facing him, so he could finally get some sense of why she would happily tell him she wanted to be his wife one day and then only a few later be in the arms of a man from her past. It had made him so angry that none of the answers were enough. He couldn’t take it. He grasped her arms tightly enough to…

As dreams tend to do whatever they very well please, this one of today swirled into one of less than a year previous. It was much kinder though, which made it even more _acidic_ , because that time of when they were truly happy was just a shard of remembrance now.

 _Then_ , their affections were still sweet; love was not riddled with vicious thorns. It was an evening of celebration, honoring the anniversary between the peace treaty of Camelot and a neighboring kingdom. It meant that there were many guests staying in the castle that evening, but one was not being respectful to its host. Such person did not realize that in Camelot, the crown prince, who during his father’s illness had taken over the role of head ruler, felt that servants should be treated with dignity, especially this particular one…

_As usual she was serving the guests with a pleasant smile and a strong regard for her position, her work ethic more than admirable. Arthur plead no difference with that but as the night grew later and the guests were filled with drink and lazily smiling away the hours, some perhaps completely sloshed, he searched, finding her in the hallway._

_Sneaking behind as she was departing the kitchen with nothing in tow, so probably taking her leave, he placed his hands over her eyes, getting her to elicit a small gasp._

_Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “The Prince of Camelot requires your service…Guinevere.”_

_She answered him coyly, playing along. “And what service exactly does he require may I ask?”_

_He answered with a low growl, bringing something past his shoulders. “No you may not. I have a blindfold to cover your eyes so you cannot peek. Then you will come with me.” Although the timbre of his voice was rich with royal protocol, it was mildly edged too with playfulness._

_Feeling hands upon her face and something being tied around it to cover her eyes, Gwen answered, “But I will not know where I am going Sire.”_

_Blindfold securely in place, one of his eyebrows went up at her astute comment. “How did you know it was me?”_

_“How could I not?” She had to stifle her laughter at how sneaky he was being about all this. Silly jester of a prince._

_He shrugged at that, which of course she could not see, and grasped her hand in his, leading her away. “Don’t worry. I will have your hand all the time, won’t let you fall.”_

_Her lips, because her eyes were covered, smiled with peace. “I’m not worried at all.”_

_“Good.” He answered, leading her down one hallway after another and then through a door that led to…_

_“Are we outside?” She asked as she felt the slighter chill of air. Something came over her shoulders, sheltering her from any coolness._

_He had wrapped his ceremonial red Pendragon cloak around and was seeing to its secureness quickly before answering, “Yes. Not much longer now.”_

_A climb, she could feel steps underneath her feet and as they ascended further the music from the festivities came through loud and clear._

_He continued to carefully lead her up the stone stairs. Then when they reached his planned destination, he untied the blindfold so she could see._

_Gwen gasped with wonder. They were standing upon the middle tower of the castle, one she’d actually never noticed before from the ground. And up above, oh the sight of the stars was a tantalizing one mixed in with the music of the band of minstrels within the dining hall. “It is so lovely up here.” She told him, gazing up at the indigo blue sky and bright shining stars._

_“Yes.” He answered, clasping both her shoulders to give her a kiss, smiling happily as he coaxed her to turn._

_She gracefully spun around him, feeling him start up a bit of dance to the music coming from below. They circled around each other in medieval fashion, enjoying getting to be part of the festivities in their private spot. Since her status was as a servant, it was the only way they could share such moments together, away from the crowd of people._

_He spun her around some more, leaning in for another kiss and this time his hands slipped from her shoulders to her upper arms. They gripped and she cried out._

_Breaking out of his daze of splendor Arthur let go of her immediately, backing so they were no longer touching. Worry shooting through him quickly, he asked, “Did I hurt you?”_

_Gwen shook her head, but rubbed her arm._

_Frowning, he lifted away the cape and pulled up the sleeve of her blue dress, seeing something that made him grimace tighter. “Is that a bruise?”_

_“Barely.” She tried to laugh it off. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”_

_“You’re lying.” He told her. “You never would have cried out if it didn’t.”_

_Gwen bit at her bottom lip, touching his shoulder. “It’s fine Arthur.”_

_“No, it’s not! Did I do that?” He pointed with revulsion coursing through his mind at his own foolish actions._

_But she shook her head immediately. “Of course not. It wasn’t you. It was-_

_She stopped there._

_Arthur grasped her hand gently within his, but his voice was firm. “Guinevere, tell me who did this to you. “How did your arm get this way?”_

_She shrugged. “One of the knights from the visiting kingdom. Oh really, he was just being a little…boisterous and I backed away and he held on and…well…that was it. He let me go.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Arthur, it’s not important.”_

_“WHO?”_

_She bit her bottom lip nervously, not for seeing the knight again, who was less scary to her than aggravating, plainly lacking any sense of chivalry. Her concern was that Arthur wanted to confront him, possibly with disastrous result. She didn’t want to be the cause of someone seriously hurt, especially Arthur. “Sir Samson.”_

_Arthur simply nodded his head, turning to race down the steps._

_“Arthur!” Gwen chased him, calling out his name, trying to catch up before he did something regrettable. “Please-_

_“Guinevere, stay up there. I’ll only be a moment.”_

_“Arthur, don’t-_

_Now he stopped. Feeling her rush to him he grasped her waist, smiling slightly to calm her down. “It’s fine. I’ll do nothing awful, alright? But Samson is going to learn you do not come to this kingdom manhandling ladies, especially the one I love. Now, just wait for me. I won’t be that long.”_

_And he wouldn’t. Down below Samson was heading through the closed-for-the-night market area. Arthur rapidly flew down the steps, calling out the man’s name. “Sir Samson, I’d like a moment with you!”_

_The man of dark wavy hair and broad chest and shoulders, bigger really than Arthur, turned around. “Oh yes Prince Arthur, what is it? Grand party!”_

_Arthur shrugged with a tight smile, not caring to waste time. He promised to her that he would keep it civil though. Well mostly civil._

_Silently Gwen watched from above, ready to call out interference if needed._

_“Yes, indeed grand.” Arthur stated shortly before he came to the matter promptly. He wanted to get back to spending time with her. “Now, I have an issue. A servant girl, the name is not important at the moment, but the matter is. She complained of being handled by you, mishandled I would say. And as evidence she now has a noticeable bruise upon her arm.”_

_Samson rolled his eyes. “Oh that, yes I may have gotten a little over zealous. Don’t know my own strength. She’s definitely a fine looking one. Wanted only to play some. Not like she’s a noble lady, right Arthur, so where’s the harm?”_

_Wrong answer._

_It didn’t matter that Samson was bigger than the prince. All that mattered was that Arthur had years of battle training at the harsh hand of his father, and at the moment was quite furious. Samson soon was one with the wall. He let out a cry of protest as it slammed into his back, Arthur’s hands tightly holding at his shoulder and neck. “In Camelot, no lady is ever treated so rudely. Is that understood Samson? Servant or not. I would have you apologize to the woman, but she prefers her name not be used and that she not have to see you again. And I would have you thrown out, but the festivities have been going so well for our respective kingdoms, don’t you think?”_

_Samson had to breathe hard to get it out. Arthur’s hold was a pure deadlock. “Uh, yes.”_

_“Good. But let me just make one thing clear. If you ever speak of a lady like that again in Camelot or treat a lady with rough hands, you will be locked in chains and spend a very cold, very uncomfortable night in the dungeons before you will be banished from ever returning here again in the morning. So we are clear…_

_YES?”_

_“Very clear Prince Arthur.” Samson relented. He had no choice. Arthur was the son of Uther Pendragon, and although the son could be much softer than the elder, he could also strike fear within seconds. Any actions he promised to carry out, he’d do without a blink._

_“Good. Now leave my sight.” Arthur ended with a smile as if they were old friends. “And enjoy your last night of festivities. You’ll be returning home tomorrow.” That was true for all the guests, but Arthur put a certain punctuation to ‘tomorrow’ for effect, directed straight at this guest._

_As Samson moved away now rapidly, not wanting to raise the prince’s ire again, Arthur ascended the steps to his quite literal lady in waiting._

_She turned to him with wonder. “I heard all you said. You didn’t have to do that.”_

_Arthur locked his hands around her waist, avoiding the bruised arm to not cause her further discomfort. “I did entirely. And so don’t worry. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”_

_Gwen smiled. “You truly are my prince.” She kissed his cheek and temple. “A knight in shining armor complete.”_

_Arthur smiled now too, ceasing her small kisses gently with a much grander one of his own…_

Slowly, painfully, Arthur awoke from the dream, the remembrance of just barely a year ago. Then, his father was weak, but still alive. Then, they spent a night enjoying the stars and music until the hour grew too late. _Then…_

He looked down at his hand, offending. When he had grabbed her in the throne room, her fear shone with completely understandable reason. He grabbed her hard. And so he let go quickly, realizing he could be causing her pain. And then, she rubbed her arm for just a bit. Not much, but if he hurt her, like it had happened that night. If…

Letting out a tortured sigh, Arthur moved away from the bed. There was something he needed to do before she left in the morning.

***

It came, a reminder of the past, of a woman of such integrity and who worked to the bone. She was small, sleight, but when she spoke it could make people turn. When she cared for the sick, it was with such tender hands. Her hold on life was much too short, taken with an illness that lasted brutally long, even within the birth of a second child.

That day she came to ask him of her condition, her first had been born only a few months ago and the odd symptoms of her illness had just begun to occur. He had given her an ailment mixed with his love of science and his expertise in magic, but so far it hadn’t seemed to take effect.

_“Have you been able to find anything Gaius?”_

_The middle aged physician regarded the uniquely lovely lady as she asked him the question. She was handmaiden to Sir Leonard and his family and she was married to a blacksmith of amazing talent. It had been just three months ago they brought their daughter into the world. She was in a bassinet on his work table, interestingly next to another infant who had also been born quite recently, just a little before her. For now the two babes were quietly awake._

_The young woman pushed back some of her unruly long curls, wishing they’d just stay put in all the pins and flowers she regularly wore in her hair. Her beloved never complained about it though. He thought it was wonderful that it was so untamed. Like a man to say such thing._

_“I wish I had better news. But we’ll just try another ailment. I’m sure with a bit of research I can find the right one to put all back to wellness again.”_

_She leaned against the counter, feeling a bit tired, but nothing more as a shrill cry came from one of the bassinets. The young woman tightly grimaced with a touch of concern and a fraction maybe of irritation. “Oh I wonder how Ingrid does it because this one is indeed a handful.” She moved to the bassinets, stopping off at the one with the crying infant. Picking him up, she cooed with gentle reprimand. “Now there, there. Stop your fussing. Quite a demanding little prince.” She brought the baby against her shoulder, rocking him rhythmically to put him in a calmer state, humming a song of old._

_Gaius smiled at her caring, but firm way. It was probably why she’d been working in Sir Leonard’s family for so many years. Although she was very respectful, she too had plenty of gumption. “You seem to be doing quite well my dear.”_

_The young woman shook her head. “I don’t know Gaius. I’ll be happy when Ingrid’s back from visiting her mother. My daughter is enough for me take care of, plus I’m not so sure how the king feels about me taking over the job, even with it a temporary situation.”_

_She spoke carefully in low tones, as conversations about the king were often held these days, within inches of fear of the wrong words being overheard._

_“Well my dear I think he’s more occupied with the continued enacting out of the new laws.”_

_The young woman gave a sad nod. “Yesterday three were drowned.”_

_“Yes.” Gaius stated carefully. Although the recent events had been devastating and there were those who thought the king was losing his grip on reality, Gaius had pledged his allegiance to the man. Many of his friends were angry with him for taking the king’s side, but there were elements of magic that had previously been used that were not as innocent as they seemed._

_Still, the drownings were plainly awful. While adult magicians were put to death by fire for magical use, the children were plunged into the water until they no longer breathed. It was terrible to witness and so Gaius had joined some of the others who secretly helped a few or more escape._

_He looked to the woman holding the baby boy who cried a little less loudly, but still had a few sobs sputtering out of his pouting lips._

_She motioned, “Poor thing. Must miss his mother.”_

_Gaius nodded sadly. In actuality the young prince’s mother had died before he could probably lay eyes on her for the first time. It was the reason for the king’s grief and the start of the purge. Whether that reason was selfishly being used with indulgence or just out of pure pain, didn’t seem to matter to anyone. The guards standing outside the door spoke of the outcome. Many of those forced to flee or killed vowed to exact their revenge upon the king’s newly born son._

_They just weren’t aware that the king rarely went near the boy, and had yet to hold him, let alone fatherly touch the lonely babe._

_The young woman noticed now that her daughter needed some tending to. She carefully laid the prince down upon one of his blankets on a healing cot. Picking her daughter up, she laid the tiny baby beside. Soon enough the most extraordinary thing happened. The prince’s sobs cut off. He wasn’t paying her much attention, but seemed possibly comforted by the baby girl’s closeness. That pout was still mildly there, but he seemed at peace now._

_Gaius marveled. “Well, look at that.”_

_The young woman did too. “Indeed. Perhaps my Guinevere has the needed ailment. I’ll have to keep them close to each other more often.” She commented as she fixed her daughter’s blankets before standing back with Gaius to watch the surprising predicament. “Tom insists on calling her Gwen, but I say to him, no, Guinevere is a special name. You will see Gaius. And so will little Prince Arthur here. Guinevere will be a name long remembered.”_

“Gaius.”

The physician broke out of his reverie. That day had been so many years ago when he wasn’t as white haired as he was now. About two years receding that day the peculiar disease took full effect. She left the world asking him gently to look after her dear loved ones and to not fret that he never found the remedy. Life treated her preciously for as long she could be there. She had no regrets.

Gaius looked up now, seeing there the _pouting_ prince, only now he was a grown up man and his pout for the moment had turned into a solid line of tightness.

“Sire. I am sorry. Merlin is not here right now. He went to talk to the arrangers of the wed-

Arthur negated the answer dully. “That’s alright. I didn’t come here to talk to Merlin anyway. I came to speak to you.”

Gaius nodded his head. “Yes, well how can I help you Sire?”

Arthur walked further into the room, looking around, restless. “Guinevere is banished from Camelot. She will leave in the morning and never return.”

He fought hard to not choke on the words.

Gaius was quiet, unable to fully gauge Arthur’s temper yet. His mood was most definitely down, but beyond that, the king gave nothing.

“You have something to say to it?” Arthur asked, scrutinizing the elder man.

Gaius shook his head sadly. “Sire, you are our king and you have made your decision. I respect it.”

Arthur nodded, walking through the physician’s quarters, smelling the heaviness of ailments and damp rags. Lowering his eyes to the wide assortment of vials, different shapes, different colors, he breathed out, “I did something I am ashamed of.”

“Sending her away?” Gaius asked carefully. There were protocols that had to be followed when responding to the ruler of a kingdom. Arthur deserved to be given that kind of respect. It was the accepted way.

“No.” Arthur whispered. “That has to be done. And it will be done tomorrow. You know my father would have had her ex-

Gaius watched with barely contained emotion as Arthur shivered on the word. It was hard to not bring his hand over the young man’s shoulder as comfort. He of course was king now, but Gaius had also seen the man born. He proceeded over the tragic birth. The physician watched him _grow_ from boy to man.

He was the one who comforted then young Arthur, years ago, when his father was away, and the boy cut his wrist on his sword. Gaius could recall the boy trying to hide the pain with a tight grimace until he gently coaxed him to let go. Voice his ache.

And yet this kind of ache, Gaius knew the young man would hold tight to, try to deal with it alone.

That made Gaius feel sad. As he had told Merlin years ago, being prince and now king was not without price.

“You have shown Gwen compassion.”

“Have I?” Arthur whispered so quietly Gaius didn’t hear. Arthur didn’t know. All he understood for certain was that she had to go. “I’m taking up too much time with this, your time and time I could use to be dealing with other important matters. I should just get on with it. I was angry when I talked to her. I lost control for a moment and I grabbed her hard.”

Gaius frowned slightly, an eyebrow going up, but he kept quiet.

“I let her go quickly, but she might—well if I hurt her at all, I don’t want her to leave here—

Arthur’s head lowered, almost shamefully. That aching bubble at the back of his throat that had been there when they were talking to each other in the throne room was returning. It was making it hard to swallow, to stand.

Gaius carefully approached the king. “Would you like me to see to her Sire, before she leaves? I am sure she is not hurt at all, but I could check if you’d like.”

Arthur lifted his head. Gaius looked at the young man with compassion. He was losing control of his emotions, but fighting it as hard as he could. “Yes. Please.”

“I will go to her tonight Sire.”

Arthur nodded, spotting the walled ledge near the window that overlooked the citadel. Heavily he sat down on it, hands wringing restlessly through his hair. That dream reminded him of why she made him so happy and why this hurt so much. He was king though and kings, his father taught him, do not have the luxury to dwell in any kind of sadness. His personal problems were no concern of his kingdom.

This time Gaius gave into the hesitations, moving over to the ledge too and sitting just a bit close to his king. “Arthur…”

The man that lifted his head was so close to tearing apart. He was so close to a frightened little boy, missing something terribly, before it was even gone. Gently Gaius lifted his hand, placing it upon Arthur’s shoulder. “I am sorry.”

“I-I still love her. I will always-

“I know. She is a good woman Sire.”

Arthur turned to the physician at those words, nodding his head. “You’re right. She is. I just can’t, I WON’T ever see her again.”

“Perhaps…” Gaius wisely counseled. “Perhaps not.”

Arthur faced the physician adamantly. “She’s banished. We’ll never see each other again.”

“Alright Sire.” Gaius simply said, the elder wise man who knew better than to broke argument with his king. It did not matter Arthur’s age or time in such service. He was his honorable ruler who he pledged allegiance to. Gwen, whether she meant to cause such pain or not, was now the one who would pay the price for it. That was just how it was to be.

Arthur struggled, recalling something she said. Gaius was already going over there anyway.

“Gaius, your council means much to me. You were a loyal advisor to my father and you are just as loyal to me. I thank you for your allegiance to Camelot.”

Arthur continued, the words dragging on sort of listlessly. Part of him just wanted to stop this, and run to her house giving his forgiveness. And yet the other part ached as a hurt man and as a king who needed to make the right choice for his kingdom.

“You know that if she stayed here, she’d be ostracized. She was to marry the king and now she committed…adultery.”

Arthur didn’t continue right away, unable to it seemed, so with his hand still gently upon the younger man’s shoulder, Gaius gave his nod of understanding. “Yes Sire. It would be hard for her. That is true.”

“But I’m sending her away to…I don’t know where. And she may not be able to find…”

His voice drifted before he found a direction to go in next.

“You know this area well Gaius. You have lived here many years, all your life.”

“Right, Sire.”

“This is not a request. She’ll have to face her own life and deal with her own troubles. I have enough of my own. But if you know…of places far away, destinations where maybe she would not be so known…

I would not disapprove of you sharing that with her. It is entirely your choice. I am not condoning or going against it. You pick what you think is right.”

Gaius fought to not hold him like he had held Merlin in the past when the boy, becoming such a young man now, was facing pain. He couldn’t do it with his king, and he knew well Arthur understood that. But his pain was now so vital and alive, tearing at every word he said, filling him with indecision and shivers of unhappiness. “I can do that Sire.”

Arthur tightly closed his eyes, sitting there, still, feeling cold and empty. Something in his life was so solidly missing already. “My father would have handled this very differently.”

The first tears fell.

“Arthur…” Gently Gaius whispered, touching his king’s hands for a fast moment. “You must deal with this the way that is right for you. No one will question it. I have told you before there are many who are helping you who you do not know of. Many who care about your safety.

As for Gwen, I believe in her good heart that she shared with you. It has made you into the man you’ve become and the king you will be. In the future you will see that.”

Tightly Arthur stated, “I want her to go. I need that. It is best. It is law.”

He got up from his seat, separating himself from Gaius, turning away before he stated it because he was afraid it would reveal too much, that his tears would too freshly fall.

“But I cannot bear to _see_ her go. I _can’t_ Gaius.”

With that one last statement Arthur left the room not allowing any comfort to be passed his way.

Gaius shook his head sadly, realizing one important thing though that it was too soon still for the king to realize, his wounds of the heart too fresh.

Love did not just die. It lingered even when the mind tried to control it.

Arthur was sending her away, but in his heart, she was dug within.

The words of Alana came back to him. _“Guinevere will be a name long remembered.”_

Maybe this wouldn’t be the end.

Just a new beginning.

For now he knew one thing. The king gave his permission for him to help, and so he’d fulfill his promise made to her mother, his vow made to his king.

Once a crying babe, whose sobs faded away, when _she_ lay next to him.

The future queen of Camelot?

Fates would tell.

***

Continued in **Two:** **_She who Hungers_**

 **Excerpt:** _Angrily, Gwen forgot her own discomfort, bringing the tunic into the water, giving it a good soak. And then bringing it against the washboard, she started to scrub rapidly. Punishingly, feeling tiny pricks of pain in her fingers that had been touched by the hot water, she ignored it all. So set upon her work, she didn’t hear the door open, didn’t know she wasn’t alone until a voice came from behind._

Thank you for reading. Feedback is adored. 


	2. He Who Must Decide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur sends Guinevere away after what he sees as the deepest treachery against his heart. When the true treachery begins, and his beloved Camelot is lit ablaze by those he had trusted most, he is lost in every sense. Physically forced away from home, fate equally forces his heart to face its greatest fear, being shattered by love.

**Title:** Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow

 **Reminder:** Story has angst, violence, tension and once in a while a touch of humor. It even has some romance and A/G are endgame, but it’s not an easy route. If you thought the show rushed things a bit, like I have to admit I did, you may enjoy this.

****

 **Two:** **_She who Hungers_**

It was hard to know where to start first.

She spun in a slow circle at the middle of the tiny house, gazing over everything she had collected from the past, bought at the markets, and been gifted with. Looking over it all was so overwhelming.

Her stomach churned angrily. She hadn’t eaten since last night, when she had been placed in the dungeons, and even then it was a meager meal. Yet hunger, even if her stomach was complaining about it, was the last thing her heart cared about.

Why did she desire _him?_ Why did she kiss him?

Why? Why? _WHY?_

When she had love in her hands, in her vitals. Why? What made that yearn so powerful that she had to give into it? She didn’t know. _Didn’t know._

It just ruined so much, burned at her heart. She loved _Arthur_ , not…him.

She never wanted Lancelot to die. It saddened her when it happened, but she grieved and then moved on. He made his sacrifice and so she hoped simply for his soul to be at peace. Then the impossible happened. He returned to Camelot just days ago and the equilibrium of her life exploded. She cared for Lancelot, truthfully, desired him once, but it had never reached the depth of her feelings for Arthur, and it had never lasted as long.

For years she had watched the prince, waited for him to notice her. And then when he did as he stayed at her home, she learned how truly arrogant the man could be. It made her smile now with wry amusement to remember him thinking during that stay that she had more than one bed and so he slept in what was actually her _sole_ bed. She started to experience a new feeling for him, _annoyance_ , especially after he expected her to fetch him bath water from outside. Finally she let him know how rude he was being and he realized his folly, apologizing and admitting he strongly cared for her.

Gwen breathed hard now, fisting her hands on her dress, and then pushing at her tangled hair that she hadn’t bothered to comb after the night spent in the dungeon.

It would not do to take her thoughts there, dwelling in what was _no more_.

She had to start packing away what she’d take with her. Just the most important things. The rest she’d leave for whoever resided here next, for whatever waste vehicle took it, for whatever burning fire was used to torch it all away. Arthur wanted no reminder of her. And one day when he met his future queen—

Her stomach groaned so hard she clutched it, almost kneeling down to the floor.

Life’s secure hold was gone, its tethers no longer anchoring her to a safe happy home. _To him._

Something not so bright of color, but suddenly standing out from the other items, caught her eye. She walked over to it, her boots clacking against the floor. Her fingers tangled into a tunic of pale ash color and suddenly a memory whiffed within her heart of happier times, of less than a week before their almost wedding. He would sometimes come over to receive her council, or to simply share dinner. This night was for the latter…

_“That was wonderful.”_

_She smiled at his approval. Oh how he loved her roast chicken and freshly baked bread._

_“I’m glad you enjoyed it”, she stated, getting up from the table to bring the dishes to the sink. It was just an ordinary day, their relationship not completely out in the open, but far from as hidden as it used to be. He didn’t want to treat her as some dirty secret._

_Moments passed by before he got up from the table too, carrying more dishes. “Here, I can help.”_

_She smiled at that amusedly. He was great at many things, but draw the line at helping out in the kitchen. Still, even if his assistance was awkward, she was happy to have added time in his company._

_The cleaning went into effect quickly and efficiently. All was well until the very last dish. He accidentally fumbled and spilled the final remains of the chicken’s gravy upon himself._

_“Oh, Arthur!” She exclaimed as the juice splattered all over his tunic messily._

_“Well if that wasn’t a Merlin move. His incompetence must be wearing off on me.” Arthur grumbled, poking at Merlin as the instigator amusedly, even though the poor innocent servant wasn’t in the vicinity._

_Brows giving a quick bounce, Gwen held in her laughter, helping him put the messy pot down, and then using a rag to wipe at his stained tunic. It was pretty much a useless cause that soon enough he interrupted with a shrug before he discarded the tunic entirely, letting it fall to the bench of her dining table._

_A not so planned smile came to her face. Seeing him shirtless was nothing new. Enough times he would wash up after a knight training session. Any type of nervousness of such mild states of undress had departed after their first days and nights of sharing affections more regularly._

_Feeling Guinevere’s hands climb up his shoulders, Arthur brought his head down. As their lips lazily slid against each other’s, he grasped her waist, backing them up to an intended target, the distance not so far as her house was quite tiny._

_His destination was her cot sized bed as he now relaxed his back against it, and kept her solidly atop, lips still taking their time to nuzzle and play with hers. Realizing their new positions, Gwen pulled away, letting out a warning that referred to a woman’s laws of propriety. “Arthur…” It didn’t come out that firmly though as she was feeling quite warm and very relaxed. His body was the perfect cushion of hardness and heat._

_Kissing her a little more, he endeavored to appease, settling himself comfortably against her cot’s pillow. For the moment he didn’t want to think about how when the hour grew too late they’d have to end this. So for now he just ran his fingers over the waist of her blue gown, looking up into her dark shining eyes. “You’re beautiful…” He whispered romantically in her ear. She blushed slightly at that, but then he pulled away a bit, getting a curious expression in his blue eyes._

_“And you have powder in your hair.”_

_Gwen scrunched her nose up at that half romantic gesture, half oddball spontaneous comment. “Well, why thank you. Such a chivalrous thing of you to say my lord.”_

_He giggled at that, boyishly, because she had that effect on him often, getting him to smile with all his teeth showing and bringing out the uncontainable chuckles from his mouth. “No…” He trailed a finger into her dark curls, bringing it out as evidence. “See…”_

_Gwen rolled her eyes as he proceeded to relieve her of the rest, just a few specks, probably flew atop her head while she had been kneading the dough for the bread._

_“Hazards of baking I suppose.” Arthur muttered distractedly, fascinated with how her tight curls looped around his fingers._

_“Oh yes, can be quite dangerous using flour, which by the way is the technical name used for it.” She replied teasingly, kissing around his lips with daring before whispering, “You are quite handsome.”_

_That brought out a cheeky grin as the egotistical part of him thought ‘well, of course it was true’. And yet it wasn’t more than a pair of minutes later after some deep scrutiny, she added on to the compliment. “And you have a glob of dried gravy on the tip of your nose.”_

_“Eh!” He wiped away at it furiously, causing her to catch his finger with laughter. “Well you do! Or er…did.”_

_Arthur decided that they’d engaged in enough talk. “Ah, kiss me and we’ll stop giving honest assessments of each other.”_

_She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or kiss him as ordered. The latter won out as it was definitely a more desirable token of choice at the moment. He lay back upon her pillow with a relaxed smile. Pressing his lips up against hers, he bounced away too, playfully, giving light fast pecks now._

_It was like a melody of affection. She smiled with contentment before strongly reminding him of one important thing. “This is my bed.”_

_“Hmmm, as I recall it was my bed that night I stayed here.” He kissed her languidly, before she pressed her fingers against his pouting lips._

_“NO, you just assumed you could use it as your bed.” She continued to hold him off as his pout grew. The king liked getting his way._

_“The purpose of this argument Guin-E-vere (he brought out with boyish emphasis on her name) is that I can call it my bed now because I used it once before.”_

_“Fine, should I have Merlin move it into your room and trade it for yours?”_

_He snuffed at that with ridicule. “Hah, my bed would take over your house.”_

_“Your bed would make it impossible to get to the door! And since when are we having an argument?”_

_He fingered her hair, pulling and swirling. He loved those tight little curls. “Since arguing means a necessitated make-up of feelings, which in kind means inappropriate behavior of physical solace that is quite exhilarating to engage in with you.”_

_Her head fell back with laughter at that so he growled and snatched her neck with his lips, bringing a solid closure to her giggles._

_Instead a deep moan. “Oh Arthur…no…you won’t want to leave. I won’t want you to leave.”_

_His mouth was wet and hot against her skin, languishing. “I was thinking of staying anyway since your bed is my bed.”_

_She gave him a one eyebrow lift to that comment, making him giggle with more silliness._

_Gwen rolled her eyes, getting up from the bed, and eliciting a most undignified groan from said king of Camelot._

_“Such a noble sound.” She remarked dryly._

_Standing up he snatched her waist against his. “Noble is null and void when you interrupt our romancing.”_

_She laughed some more, before sobering. “You’re king now. You and I both know that your staying here-_

_Another tight groan came from him, but he nodded his head. “Yes, right. Even though I hate it. I’m king, shouldn’t I have a say in my personal endeavors?”_

_It was part teasing, part seriousness. She smiled at him in apology, maybe making solace for both of them. “Kiss me goodnight Arthur. And I’ll see you tomorrow my Lord.”_

_He held her in his arms and did as ordered, forgetting all their fussing and play fighting. She kissed him back, feeling the solidity of his chest against her dress’s front. His hands cupped her cheeks as he whispered regretfully, “Goodnight.”_

_One last kiss and he was out the door. She stood against its closed structure, letting out a content sigh of pent up frustration. Ah, the blissful irritation of love…_

The memory fading away, Gwen’s tears fell onto the pale ash tunic that she never thoroughly finished washing for him. All she’d done was wiped away the stain with soap and water that night. Now a furious determination drilled deep into her. She had to clean it all the way. She’d have to find her washboard and pan. Get some soap from the shelves. Fill the pan. Scrub hard and-

She gathered it all, feeling another hunger pang in her stomach. She clutched at its emptiness as she perused the room. After that time he stayed and wanted a bath, she tried to keep water around, just for her own self. Now she heated it before pouring the hot liquid into the pan. Some of it splattered away from its destination.

 _“OH!”_ Gwen let out painfully, feeling the high temperature of the water scald her fingers for a quick moment. Her face scrunched up at the temporary pain. Angrily, Gwen forgot her own discomfort, bringing the tunic into the water, giving it a good soak. And then bringing it against the washboard, she started to scrub rapidly. Punishingly, feeling tiny pricks of pain in her fingers that had been touched by the hot water, she ignored it all. So set upon her work, she didn’t hear the door open, didn’t know she wasn’t alone until a voice came from behind.

“Gwen.”

As she turned backward, Gaius frowned at the tears coursing down her cheeks, the way some of her fingers were tensing with some kind of anguish.

“I have to clean this. Return it to him. He came a few nights ago. I know I don’t have to hide it from you Gaius. You knew we were---together. And, well, he spilled some gravy and it made this mess. And now I’m soaking it in the water so he can have it back. But who’s going to give it to him? He doesn’t want to look at me. He hates me! And I don’t blame him. I don’t blame him because I hurt him so badly. I did something so awful. And _WHY_ …oh _WHY_ …”

Gaius put down the small pack of supplies he had brought and moved down carefully to the floor next to the sobbing young woman, so upset her words came out in rash mumblings. “Oh Gwen dear.”

His hands gently came to her shoulders and Gwen tried to push him away. “You shouldn’t be here. No one should be. He’ll be angry. He’ll be so-

Gaius brought an aged hand to her cheek with almost fatherly care, remembering for a moment her beautiful brave mother. How pained she would be to see her daughter hurting so. “He is the one who sent me Gwen.”

She stared at him, for a moment so hopeful. “Did he…has he changed his mind?”

Gaius looked upon the young woman with saddened eyes, shaking his head regrettably, realizing he might have just made things worse, but then taking in her throbbing fingers, he lifted the most affected ones up. “These look like burns Gwen .”

She dully looked down at her fingers, having almost forgotten the pain, uncaring. “They’re from the water. It was too hot and I spilled some.”

Gaius grimaced at that, before giving her a comforting smile. “We should get you up off the floor. I have bandages in my bag.”

Gwen allowed the elder man to help her to stand as he did too. She moved over to her dining bench, sitting upon it, leaving the pail and wash on the floor.

Gaius came to the bench now too, bringing out a few of the bandages to wrap Gwen’s fingers. “The burns are very mild. They should be healed by morning and you can remove them then Gwen, alright?”

She nodded her head, recalling something he had said when he walked into her home. “Gaius, you said Arthur sent you. Or did I hear you wrong?”

Gaius shook his head, touching at her hand now that the small bandages were in place on her fingers. “No. He sent me. He was concerned my dear. He said that when you…spoke to each other…he unintentionally physically hurt you and he simply wanted to make sure you suffered no injury before you left.”

Gwen lifted the sleeve of her dress, pointing to it, a mild red mark still left on her arm that would soon enough fade, but no kind of bruising or serious infliction. “This? Oh he should not worry about me so. It’s nothing.”

Her stomach grumbled angrily, making her clench it.

Gaius now knew that she was alright physically from anything Arthur might have inadvertently done in his anger, but her hunger was indeed something to worry about. Especially if she was to be off on her own, food might not be so readily available. It would cause much harm for her to leave here half starved. “Gwen my dear when was the last time you ate?”

Gwen shook her head. “It’s not important.”

He grasped her hand. “Yes it is. You must take care of yourself, especially if you are to find somewhere to stay.”

Gwen shook at that, new tears entering her eyes. “Stay? I have nowhere to stay. I don’t know where I’m going to go. I never thought I’d leave here. I never imagined—

Camelot is my home. I never thought I’d spend days not seeing him. I---

She got up off the bench, clutching her heart, bending over with the force of the invisible knife cutting through it. “Oh, I don’t know why I did it Gaius. I don’t know why I k-kissed him…Lancelot. I don’t love him. I just couldn’t—I couldn’t help myself. For some reason I can’t even explain I was drawn to him. But it’s Arthur—

Gaius listened until the young woman’s voice started to break with ravage and then he stood up, caringly bringing her into his arms. “Oh Gwen.”

She sobbed against his shoulder. “It’s Arthur I love. Arthur who I wanted to spend my life with. And now it’s ruined. It’s all ruined.”

Gaius whispered soothingly, rubbing her back patiently. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

Gwen pulled back from him some questioningly. “Gaius?”

He smiled, recalling it, _her_. “I knew your mother Gwen.”

She wiped at some of her tears. “You did?”

Gaius nodded solidly. “Yes. She was a good woman.”

“Unlike me.” Gwen remarked dryly, already having received some of the _looks_ , heard the whispers about her from some of her former friends. Others just gave her sad expressions, but were unwilling to speak to her because of her banishment.

“No. That’s not true my dear. She was _much_ like you. Lovely and kind hearted. Strong and forgiving. When she became ill, she fought it so bravely. And when she knew there was no more fight to be had, she made sure of everything for you and Elyan.”

Sadly Gwen stated, “I don’t remember her, except for one bit of memory, but it’s always been too fragmented. I can’t hold onto it. I can’t see her. I wish I could have before she…departed.”

Gaius nodded his head. “I do too. You may not know all of this. Part you will. Your mother worked for Leon’s family. They loved her dearly because she was so hardworking and just a lovely person. Many grieved when your mother passed on, Gwen. It was hard for those who cared about her so. But before the illness got too bad, your mother took on Ingrid’s role for a very short time.”

“Who was Ingrid?” Gwen asked curiously, tears starting to dry on her cheeks.

“Arthur’s nanny when he was just a young prince.”

_“Oh.”_

Gaius continued, “Ingrid was away visiting her mother so for that period of time _your_ mother took on her duties of caring for the then infant prince. It was only a few months after you were born, several more after his birth. One day, your mother came into my chambers with both of you in tow.”

Gwen listened with deep interest, a temporary reprieve from all her troubles. Any retell of her mother was a sweet blessing.

“Unfortunately what should have been a time of deep celebration, the prince’s birth, was a mournful one because of the queen’s passing moments after he came into the world. The purge that followed too brought on much grief.”

Gwen nodded. She and Arthur both were too young to have seen the deepest horrors of the purge, but she could recall the invasions of Druid camps, burnings at the stake, and even a few child drownings, painful parts of Camelot’s past.

“Because of this, most likely, and the fact that the king, at that time, had difficulty in being demonstrative with his son, the prince was known to cry quite a bit.” Gaius didn’t tell Gwen now the full extent of this. In truth Uther could barely look at Arthur after his birth. For a sum of many months the man rarely touched his infant son.

Now Uther would go on to love Arthur fervently, but he would _always_ have difficulty with showing his son the physical adoration of his love. The delicate and yet vital Ygraine had always been better at that. It was a side of her being that she passed on to Arthur. Gaius saw it from time to time, especially when someone was hurt. His gentleness would show then, and what his father had so much difficulty with, Arthur would just genuinely display.

As Gwen smiled sadly, Gaius continued.

“That day as he cried your mother laid him down on a cot, resting you nearby. And Gwen, the most peculiar thing happened. The young prince stopped crying. Your close vicinity seemed to calm him.”

“What?”

Gaius smiled. “So you see my dear. Perhaps this is it. _But perhaps not._ Your mother only called you Guinevere. She said it was a name that would always be remembered for its importance. And I believe she was right.” He clasped her hands. “Gwen, he sent me here because, yes, he is hurt. But he still cares. Perhaps time can heal.”

She hugged the elder man, not sure where the future was to lead, but heartened by the story. As she was pulling away a knock came at the door, the back one. Before she could get there, another rap of sound pounded at the wood. “I’m coming.” She announced a bit restlessly, wondering who would be so impatient. She opened it to a face of scraggly beard and surrounding dark brown waves of hair.

“Gwaine?”

He was grimacing tightly, looking not at all happy. Gwen stared, before she felt a bear hug surround her small frame. “Gwaine?” She asked unsurely before she got her better sense and pushed him away. “No. You shouldn’t be here. Arthur would not approve.”

Gwaine placed his hands on his waist solidly. He didn’t really get any of this. It made no sense. Gwen was no fickle woman. She wouldn’t agree to marry a man and then be seen with another. She just wouldn’t do it. Something wasn’t right here. But whatever _that_ was, it simply didn’t matter. He had liked her since he first came to Camelot and truthfully if her heart hadn’t belonged to Arthur he definitely could have seen himself honorably pursuing her.

Anyway, for now she was in need of help and he had two strong arms to offer it.

“Well then it’s just between us. Here…” Gwaine took an uncooked chicken out of a burlap bag, as Gwen shut the door, ushering him all the way in. “I’m assuming after spending a night in the dungeons you haven’t eaten much, so that can be dinner.”

Gaius came over with a smile. “Ah Gwaine, I’m glad you brought this. You’re right. She hasn’t eaten much so I can start cooking it now.”

“Perfect.” Gwaine grinned at that even as Gwen still looked unsure of it all. He knew that she was thinking of their welfare, but heck, if the king had an issue with this, he’d deal with it himself. She didn’t need to worry. “And I have two muscled arms ready for-

Gwen stared at him. Another hug?

Gwaine gestured around the room, grinning. “Ready for helping you pick up all this stuff and getting it packed.”

Gwen smiled, feeling tears welling in her eyes again. She was so grateful to the both of them. Gwaine moved in closer, telling her quietly, “You know Elyan wanted to come. But he’s so much about protocol and all that. He said anyway that he hopes you are well which I kind of laughed at. Of course you’re not well, but no one works harder than you. And you’re brave to boot. You’re going to be fine Gwen. But if it ever gets too hard, if you can’t take it, don’t hesitate to come back.”

Gwen shook her head, frowning. “Gwaine, you’re a knight of Camelot. You can’t help me.”

“Deal with that if the time comes. You’re my friend and that’s all that matters the way I see it. You need help, you come back.”

Gaius came over, having prepared the chicken for cooking and so now he was wiping his hands on a rag. Gwaine’s offer was generous, but couldn’t be easily delivered. He had an alternative solution based on what the king himself said. “That won’t be necessary Gwaine. I know a place you can stay Gwen. It’s hard work, but you’re no stranger to that. It’s a nice village outside enough of Camelot that you won’t have to worry about meeting up with anyone you don’t want to. And it should be quite safe. “

Gwen smiled gratefully, feeling more of those tears welling in her eyes. Leaving Camelot would be the hardest thing she ever did, but it was so good to have dear friends who cared this much.

 _So_ good.

***

A voice rung Arthur out of his reverie.

“I thought I made it clear earlier that I didn’t want to be disturbed. You can leave.”

Gwaine pushed through the door anyway. He had a delivery to make and a few things to say. He knew Merlin was feeling awful about all this too, but as he was just a servant, one of Arthur’s closest friends _and_ Gwen’s too, he was torn between complaining boisterously and supporting his king. Gwaine, on the other hand, felt as _knight_ he had a right to say what he needed to.

“This will only take a moment.”

Arthur moved away from the door, frowning. Gwaine went on. He knew he was sometimes seen as the fool of the group, the funny knight, but he had his moments of seriousness too and this was one of them. “Look, Arthur, I’m truly honored to be a knight of Camelot. That’s why I’ve kept my mouth shut a lot. But I have to say something on this and you’re going to hear me out.”

“I’m your _king_ , Gwaine, remember that.” Arthur testily reminded. His sorrow was swelling into anger.

Gwaine just shrugged and held it out. “Here, she cleaned this for you. Asked me to bring it because she said you wouldn’t want to see her.”

Arthur looked down at the pale ash tunic, the stain completely gone, and the material smelling fresh and tidied. Slowly he took it from Gwaine, not saying anything for a handful of moments, and then, “Thank you.”

“ _She’s_ the one you should be thanking.” Gwaine muttered, before going on. “I helped her pack. You know, one day to get all your stuff together isn’t the easiest thing to do. And I brought her food because I doubt she was given much to eat in the dungeons last night.”

Arthur sighed heavily.

Gwaine knew he was pushing his luck, speaking so forcefully, but he couldn’t contain it. “I do all you say Arthur. I’ve pledged my life to serving you, but she’s my friend so I’m not going to apologize for helping her.”

Arthur lowered his eyes to the floor, the tunic reverently grasped in his hands as he whispered, “I don’t want you to. I’m glad you made sure she was well.”

Gwaine looked at him with shock now. “What?”

“I meant it.” Arthur studied the clean tunic, taking in the scent that always seemed to be there when her physical presence touched something, floral, sweet. It made him feel painfully dizzy. So empty without the support he was used to. “She hasn’t left yet. I’m not going to stop anyone from making sure of her welfare while she is still here.”

Gwaine smiled. Arthur wasn’t finished though as he now lifted his head strongly, king in full effect.

“But hear me on this Gwaine and make your choice soon. For I won’t tolerate any indecision. After she is gone tomorrow, I don’t want to hear her name anymore. I don’t want to see anything of her. You will keep your feelings about all this to yourself. Once she is gone, _that’s it_. She made her decision and I have made mine. Guinevere will be banished from Camelot in the morning and any mention of her will not be allowed. Now you pledged your allegiance to me over a year ago. If you cannot agree to what I have just said, best you speak up now.”

Gwaine let out a heavy grunt, angry and understanding the same. _Just none of this was right._ “I don’t believe she meant to hurt you. Gwen is not mean or uncaring.”

Tightly as he fingered the tunic, Arthur shook his head, feeling his heart shake. “I don’t think she is either, but she cannot stay in Camelot. I don’t want to see her anymore. You understand?”

Gwaine sadly nodded. He truly did have deep respect for Arthur, but this decision was just so ravaged. “I do. But you should probably know I told her that if she needs anything she can come to me.”

Arthur frowned tightly, before letting out, “Fine, but then you leave Camelot too if it ever comes to that.”

Gwaine couldn’t help his frustration. “Arthur there’s something very _wrong_ here! Don’t you feel it? I watched her the night after you proposed. She’s never been happier.”

Arthur fought inwardly, knowing this conversation would have to end soon. He needed time to himself. “Neither have I. Gwaine, I’ve said all I have to on this matter. In the morning she will leave and that will be it. Now if you don’t mind… _I’d like to be alone_.”

Gwaine had so much more he wanted to say, but the dismissal was curt and to the point as Arthur now turned away from him, looking out the window.

Gwaine departed the room, closing the door behind him.

At its first sound, Arthur’s tears fell onto the pale ash tunic.

***

The king rushed back to Camelot, riding his horse at an urgent pace. Wrapped around one of his fingers was the ring on its leather cord. It had been weeks since he last saw her. He had actually mentally prepared himself to marry the Princess Mithian. It wouldn’t have been that hard of a task. She was quite lovely and engaging. Only during her stay Arthur now realized shockingly he had tried to bury his heart. Now that he had the ring, it was like shocks of lightning burning his skin. Every curtain he had tried to close over his eyes blew away. His body shivered with long forgotten awareness.

Questions wracked him. How did the ring get out there so deep into the wood? Was she angry enough to throw it away? Or maybe frightened, or desperate enough to have lost it somehow?

He could hear it faintly behind him, the princess calling out his name as she tried to catch up to him at the castle’s entrance. Arthur jumped off his horse, not able to respond yet. There was someone he had to see.  
Arthur rushed up the steps, feeling Merlin coming behind, calling out to him also as he reached his side.

“Not now Merlin.”

“Arthur!”

“Not now!”

He swiftly made his way to the physician’s quarters, mildly pushing away Merlin as the servant stared at him curiously. “Why are you coming here?” He asked.

Arthur shook his head. “I need to speak to Gaius, Merlin. Alone. Please.”

Merlin was upset for a reason he couldn’t share with Arthur. He knew the deer had been Gwen and that meant she was harmed, and yet because he was servant and it was daylight he couldn’t go to her yet. “Arthur, look-

The king used his role to be brusque, rude. “Merlin, I said I need to speak to Gaius alone. Now go busy yourself with my horse. He needs a wipe-down and the stables are looking filthy.”

Merlin looked affronted, before he coldly replied. _“Yes, Sire.”_ The servant hurried down the steps, away from his master.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. He hadn’t meant to be that coarse. Merlin’s council, oddly quite wise often, truly meant something to him, but for now, he needed to speak to the physician who had treated him honestly since he was a boy, who gave his allegiance to his father when so many others turned away.

Stepping into the room, seeing the physician at the back, working on a remedy, Arthur quietly whispered. “Gaius.”

The elderly physician came over to him. “Sire.” He studied the younger man for a moment, noticing that his expression was troubled and more revealing than it had been of late.

Arthur unraveled it from his fingers where he’d been holding onto it since they had departed the wood. “During the hunt I found this. It’s the ring I gave…” He stumbled on the word, a name he promised himself after her banishment he would never speak again and yet it was so deeply drilled into his heart it was stupid to assume he could keep such vow. “Guinevere.”

Gaius took the ring from him, staring up at the king, not quite understanding the meaning yet.

Arthur continued, “I never asked for it back. I think because it was on this length of leather, she had been wearing it.”

Gaius nodded. “I suppose that is possible.”

Arthur let out a long drawn sigh, trying to not make so evident the shakiness of his breaths. “Gaius, did you tell her somewhere to go? I remember I mentioned to you I would not take issue to if you knew of a place, safe, hospitable.”

Gaius smiled at that mildly. As much as Arthur had made up the pretense for this wedding to Princess Mithian it was not hard for those who knew him well to see. His _heart_ was somewhere else. “I did Sire. As I didn’t think you would take offense.”

Arthur shook his head rapidly. “No, that’s fine. I don’t mind it. Just, it wasn’t somewhere within the wood, was it?”

“No Sire.” Gaius quietly added, “It was to a village where there are hardworking good people I know. It’s mostly farmland, less of forest.”

Arthur lowered his head, trying to deny the pricks of anxiety within his heart. A part of him wanted to just go find her, make sure she was safe. Another reminded that she betrayed him with another man, one he once considered a friend, long ago before things become much too complex. And a third even, fretted that maybe she discarded of the ring on purpose, upset with him.

But that third was the weakest, because no matter how much he hurt her, angered her, she was not so petty to throw away something he told her had been his mother’s and meant much to him.

So Arthur couldn’t help but wonder, even worry a little…

“I wonder how it got to the wood.”

Gaius carefully said nothing, seeing the trouble in Arthur’s face, but not sure how to approach the subject when the young man was his king and believed that the woman he loved humiliated and hurt him.

Arthur tightly clasped it back within his fingers, feeling he would get no answer and not sure why he would even want one. She was banished and so she was supposed to be forgotten. “Thank you Gaius.” He whispered softly before leaving the room.

 _Supposed_ to be forgotten and yet…

 _Love_ has a hard time forgetting.

***

Continued in **Three:** **_Hell’s Face is Fear_**

 **Excerpt:** _The smell of fires burning lifted with smoked irritation to his nose. Bodies littered the hallways, those of the enemy and those draped in red cloaks, knights and guards of Camelot. They had tried to get most of the civilians out that had been at the banquet, but Arthur wasn’t sure about those on the outside, the workforce and villagers who had not attended. As he slashed at another of Morgana’s men with his sword, bloodying its tip, he grunted with memory. There was something vitally important he needed to get, too precious to allow to be taken._

Thanks so much for reading. 


	3. Hell's Face is Fear

**Title:** Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow

 **Note:** I didn’t want to sugarcoat the brutalities of battle, so here's much of where the higher rating was warranted.

****

 **Three:** _**Hell’s Face is Fear**_

_Camelot was under siege._

A fierce battle was taking place within and outside.

Merlin had warned Arthur of Agravaine’s deceit and the plot his uncle had forged with Morgana and Helios to take Camelot using the highly secret, well contained layout of the kingdom’s entranceways. Arthur had quickly dismissed such warnings, but now the truth was brutally clear.

Spotting Merlin within the fighting fracas, trying to defend his king by clumsily swinging a sword he had found upon the ground nearby a fallen foe, Arthur called out to him as he sunk his blade into another, hearing his nemesis’s dull cry before he fell to the stone floor.

“Merlin, find Gaius and get him out of here!” Arthur didn’t want the servant going alone. He noticed on his left-hand side one of Camelot’s most trusted knights, a man of great character and strength, assisting in the fight. “Leon, go with, protect them!”

Leon took the enemy at his pulse, sinking the blade into his flesh before he pulled it out with ruthless expertise.

Merlin protested Arthur’s order, managing to bring down a man with his _borrowed_ sword’s blade and a tad of magical help, the _latter_ secretly. “You’re my king! I’m not leaving you!”

It was a truthful enough statement even if there was some edge to it. Their friendship had been frayed since Arthur banished Gwen. Merlin was upset about the manner in which she was sent away and that Arthur had been treating him quite shoddily since.

Merlin actually got to see Gwen again just recently after Arthur and Mithian’s hunting trip. Morgana enchanted Gwen to look like the deer and so Mithian accidentally hit her. That night Merlin secretly went back to the forest to help his friend. The next morning Gwen told him about Agravaine and Morgana’s plans. When Merlin tried to get Gwen to come back to Camelot she negated it so he suggested that instead she could go to Ealdor.

Merlin still wasn’t sure if she had.

As for the planned attack, even without mentioning Gwen’s name, Arthur hadn’t believed it and so now the kingdom was paying the price.

Yet even within all that, Merlin still considered Arthur the true king, and cared about his safety.

After all, they were supposed to be the two sides of a coin.

Arthur countered his servant’s stubbornness. “That’s an order Merlin!” It didn’t work. Breathing heavily, Arthur used sense to argue his point as he continued to use his physical prowess to wield his sword against Camelot’s enemies. “Merlin, Gaius is elderly, not strong enough to deal with this kind of fight. He could be killed, you see that, yes Merlin? You have to take him away from here.”

Leon regrettably agreed, backing up to the hallway so they could head up the steps to save the physician. “Come on Merlin.”

Merlin was brutally torn. His loyalty should be to his king, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Gaius falling in this battle.

Neither could Arthur. Gaius had cared for him since he was born and Merlin was a trustworthy friend.

“Go. Both of you. Now.” He grunted out.

With sharp precision of timing Percival was backing into the room now, wielding his sword against another of their adversaries. Hearing the tail end of the conversation, he reassured Leon. “Go on, I’ll stay with Arthur.”

_To keep the king alive was imperative._

Leon pulled at Merlin’s arm, but the servant was hesitant.

_“Arthur…”_

“Gaius needs you Merlin. _GO_.”

Merlin showed his last bit of hesitation, gnawing at his bottom lip unhappily, before he fiercely rushed against Arthur’s side. He whispered into his ear so it wouldn’t be overheard, _“Ealdor. Go with Percival and the others to Ealdor. We’ll meet you again there.”_

Arthur nodded before he killed another, Merlin moving away from the direction of his blade with rapid response. Then the servant rejoined Leon.

As the two departed the room, Arthur continued wielding his sword with Percival nearby, wondering for a quick second where Morgana and Agravaine were hiding, or striking next.

***

_Everything was in chaos._

The strong smell of burning fires irritated his nose. Bodies littered the hallways, those of the enemy and those draped in red cloaks, knights and guards of Camelot. They had tried to get most of the civilians out that had been at the banquet, but Arthur wasn’t sure about those on the outside, the workforce and villager farmers who had not attended. As he slashed at another nemesis, he grunted with memory. There was something vitally important he needed to get. He darted his eyes around the room filled with the sight and noise of metal upon metal , and every once in a while, screams of dying men. In a corner he spotted Gwaine assisting Percival, the pair of knights fiercely fighting back to back.

As he watched them, a man came at him, thinking that he was too distracted to notice, a foolish mistake he’d pay for with his life. Arthur grew up with threats regularly, making him always alert. So as the man grinned, he flicked his wrist and sent the blade of his sword straight into the man’s gut. Then pulling it out, Arthur jumped over the barrier of the falling body, moving swiftly toward the room’s exit.

Closer to the edge of the hallway now, he cautiously sought the steps, getting past Percival and Gwaine without them noticing.

Arthur took the steps two at a time, carefully checking around each landing until he came to the right one. The quiet made him feel edgy. Cautiously he kept his sword out, ready for potential enemies to strike. Moving through the long hallway, he took a glance outside one of the tall windows, seeing movement down upon the ground that reassured him. Leon and Merlin were leading Gaius out. They should be safe now, soon on their way to Ealdor.

Arthur stepped down the hallway swiftly. Again no one stopped him so he reached his chambers without incident.

Stepping into the front bedroom, he felt an injury he received downstairs give complaint. Sagging slightly against his bedpost, Arthur noticed an irritation of blood on the underside of his ribs. He ignored the hurt, focused on his purpose, finding the piece of furniture where he kept the box.

Opening it up, he hastily pocketed the items as voices now came from around the corner. Arthur quickly dropped to his knees behind the bed.

_“I want my dear brother found. And once he is, bring him to me alive. Understood?”_

_“Yes, my lady.”_

_“Good.”_

_“The people are not heeding.”_

_“Then make them listen. Give no quarter. Kill a few as example. That will send them into shivers of fear. Plus once we have the fallen king, they’ll heed even better. Watching their oh so strong leader bow at my feet, they’ll have no choice but to give in. And then when we have their total loyalty…_

_We’ll kill their precious king.”_

Arthur concealed a gasp with his hand, pushing his palm so tightly against his mouth he scratched his inner bottom lip into a shallow bleed.

_She would murder innocent people._

For a year of his life he searched for Morgana when she was taken, felt such joy when he found her. _How could she do this?_ It was more than physical weariness weighing him down now. Emotionally he was devastated. When had Morgana, his half-sister by blood, become so vile?

_Why did she hate him so?_

Morgana and her followers finally departed the room, definitely not giving thought to that the king would be hiding within it.

Arthur wasted no time in relief, simply looked around the room, until he spotted it past the curtains.

No one, but he and his father ever knew about _it_ , not even Merlin or Morgana.

Only as a young naïve boy had he dared to use it, until getting caught red handed by his father.

Arthur moved now to the _secret_ door, seemingly a part of the stone wall. Feeling around its edges, he touched the barely tangible handle.

When Morgause and her immortal army attacked Camelot he knew it would be folly to use this door then. It led to an open passage that could have resulted in death by the immortals. Now, although Helios’s army was strong, they were _not_ immortal. If the open passage led him to adversaries on the other side, he could at least fight back.

Arthur opened the secret door, before shutting it firmly behind him. Then he ran down the hidden case of steps. Reaching the bottom, he carefully slid open the second door, finding himself one of luck so far. The open passage was vacant. He shut the second door just like he had the first behind him. After he did, it appeared to be nothing more than a stone section of the castle’s many towers.

The precise tower he now stood upon was quite high, with serrated barbs along the sides. As a boy, before being found by his father, he would use a rope, enjoying the thrill of navigating downward to adolescent freedom.

Against Morgause’s immortal army though, trying then to find a way to get his father out of the castle, he negated the idea, reasoning twofold. First, it would have given its surreptitious existence away to Morgana and Merlin. And secondly, his father in his unconscious state would not have been able to avoid the serrated barbs of the towers, and could have been killed. Thus, it was safest to use the window then.

Outside now, he could feel the force of the wind and smell the burning fires below. From the tower adjacent to the castle’s interior he could hear the murmur of voices. It was hard to reenter the castle from his current position, but easy enough to listen to a conversation. He pinpointed one of the voices quickly, Agravaine.

Arthur hid behind the column.

_“Any that are still alive, put in the dungeons. I’m betting that most of the knights will fight to their death. They’re incredibly loyal to their king. Keep the fires burning so the people are corralled into one area. Do not destroy the castle though. It is well made, the one thing that cretin Uther kept in check. And most importantly, find my nephew. Bring him to the new queen.”_

Arthur wanted to shred the life out of his uncle for what he had done, but then then he started to hear _them_ , the screams.

They were coming from the citadel, the marketplace and areas beyond. Arthur carefully moved away from the column as another wrenching scream pierced his ears. Raking the citadel and surrounding parts below, he spotted the thick tendrils of rising fire blocking people’s paths and the glint of metal that was being taken away from a person’s flailing body.

_They were doing it, murdering citizens._

His small comfort was that it shouldn’t be many. Morgana had to know how foolish it would be to conduct mass killings. Trying to start a new rule in such a barbaric way wouldn’t help the people come to her side.

Further away he noticed the bright red of his men, some dead upon the ground, others fighting against the Southron army. But here in this area especially, it seemed there were few of Camelot’s military and that most were laid on the cobbles of stone, lifeless.

The agonized screams were too much to take. As king, caretaker of his people, Arthur knew he had to do something. He had no rope though like he had used when he was a boy, and so he would have to jump from his post.

Arthur inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out, working to center his mind on just his task, paying little heed to the trickle of wet fear that slid down his back. The distance from the post he was holding, to the ground below, was dizzying. He steeled himself, understanding that it was imperative he leapt far enough away from the jagged spikes of the tower’s sides or it would be his death, a dark thought he didn’t want to dwell on for long.

Arthur drew one of his hands away from the post, taking another glance at what was below him before removing his other hand too, making the jump.

Suddenly flying through the void, he hoped it was enough of a gap or he’d soon be feeling those serrated barbs’ impalement.

***

The room was filled with vaporous billows of smoke from burnt out torches, and the fetid scent of death.

Bringing down an enemy invader, Percival looked around, suddenly noticing something within the hazy room that made his eyes widen. “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?” Gwaine grunted back, stabbing a man with his sword.

Percival wriggled closer to his friend and fellow knight, whispering it carefully.

_“The Princess.”_

It had sometimes been Gwaine’s teasing nickname for him, long before Arthur became king. It made Gwaine startle now, looking around frantically as he kept wary of the next invader. “Oh fie. He was just here.”

Percival nodded, slashing a man with his blade and then throwing him against the wall furiously before he could react. At his grand size, it really wasn’t all that hard, not to mention that having a lost king put him in an ill mood. Gwaine watched with raised brows before starting to back out, gesturing for Percival to follow. “Come on! Watch your back, and while you’re at it _watch mine_.”

Percival rolled his eyes inwardly. “And then?”

Gwaine grunted, feeling a man sink his blade into his side. He backhanded him viciously in retaliation. Aiding his fellow knight, Percival shoved the man so hard that the fellow banged his head solidly against the stone wall, before slumping lifelessly.

“Thanks.” Gwaine let out.

“Don’t mention it. And…so?”

“We’ll see if Elyan’s seen Ar-uh, the Princess.”

***

He cleanly avoided the serrated barbs, but his fast plunging descent couldn’t insure his landing.

As Arthur’s feet hit the ground with fierce dissonance, his body filled with pain, the wounded area near his ribs crying out, and his legs shrieking in protest. If it wasn’t for a market stand nearby that he gripped fervently with his fingers, he probably couldn’t have remained standing. At least he had yet to be noticed.

Letting out some deep breaths, getting back his equilibrium, Arthur let go of the market cart.

After taking a few steps, he was faced with a disturbing sight that made his stomach churn sickeningly.

Lain upon the stone ground, face forward, was a man with blonde whiffs of hair, grayed at the edges. He was a farmer Arthur recognized only by sight, having seen him before working ardently on his crops. Pushed into his back was a knife’s blade. Arthur’s vision burned hotly. Even if he didn’t know this man’s name, a hardworking individual didn’t deserve to die in such a cruel way.

Another look further on made him gasp in shock. _No._

A memory twisted through his thoughts as he tried to deny what he was seeing. It couldn’t be.

_Couldn’t…_

_Riding alongside each other, they were returning from a private picnic in the wood. As Arthur and Gwen neared the first gates, a young girl ran toward them._

_“Gwen!”_

_Arthur brought his horse to a quick halt to avoid hitting the girl. She seemed no more than ten years old._

_Gwen jumped down from hers, rushing to the girl with familiarity. Gently holding onto the girl’s arms, she asked, “What is it Sarya?”_

_The girl was breathing fast. Arthur moved down from his horse now too, approaching softly. Like Gwen he squatted down, removing his hood. Seeing who he was, the girl gasped, shivering with fright._

_Gwen shook her head. “Oh no, don’t be scared.”_

_Arthur approached gently. “Guinevere is right. I am Arthur. Now what is the matter?”_

_Gwen gestured meaningfully. “It’s okay. You can tell him. He only wants to help.”_

_“But he’s the king.” Sarya insisted with clear distrust._

_Arthur smiled gently. “That’s right I am. And that means Camelot and its people mean much to me. Now Sarya is your name, yes? What is upsetting you?”_

_The girl shook her head, not wanting to tell him. Gwen’s hand came to Arthur’s shoulder and she led him away for a moment. Arthur felt a tingle of irritation and even hurt. No one ever shunned him like this girl had._

_Gwen explained calmly. “She was scared of your father. Sarya’s father is ill quite a bit, and while he could rule, your father used to put it off to laziness. I fear that’s what this has to do with now. Her father is ill again.”_

_Arthur grimaced. His father had his fallacies, but he had also been blamed for much that wasn’t his fault while he was king. “Why did he call him lazy then?”_

_Gwen seemed to hesitate._

_“Come on, tell me.” Arthur insisted. “Look Guinevere, you may not see it, but I do, there are sometimes people who do not work as hard as they could.”_

_Gwen shook her head adamantly. “Not Sarya’s father. He never shirks responsibility. But when the illness strikes it sometimes forces him to days of bed-rest._

_Don’t look at me so questioningly. Gaius has been treating him for years, but there’s no permanent remedy.”_

_“I wasn’t doubting you.”_

_“Were you not?” Gwen hotly asked._

_Arthur sighed. “Alright, I was wrong. Okay? I’ve just heard so many complaints about my father, sometimes unfair ones.”_

_“Well this one is just. Sarya’s father works for Sir Reginald, a very distinguished knight, yes, but he is not very…patient.”_

_Arthur had to agree. All of his knights he had great respect for, but it was true that some could be harsher, and Sir Reginald was of the old, his father’s time. It was entirely possible he saw the illness as no more than an excuse to get out of work. “Okay, you’re right…on that.”_

_“Then maybe you understand better.”_

_Than his father? Arthur wondered. She didn’t speak his name, but he guessed that was what she was hinting at._

_Gwen clasped one of Arthur’s hands with patience and a touch of regret. “I’m sorry. I know you would never try to scare her, but Sarya does not see it as I do. She is uncomfortable with those of your status. Let me talk to her alone.”_

_“Fine.” Arthur quietly relented with a pout of his lips, but then he grabbed Gwen’s hand before she could step away. “I want to help, Guinevere. If he’s being treated by Gaius then this disease is real.”_

_“Of course it is. If you saw him you’d see that right away.”_

_Arthur sighed heavily. He felt restless, wanting to do something, but Guinevere made it clear, the girl did not like his kind. She held no trust in him. Finally he relented. “Go on. Talk to her. I’ll stand back, keep the horses with me.”_

_Gwen smiled gratefully, touching his cheek. “Thank you.”_

_Arthur just nodded as she moved back to the girl. He listened in to bits of the conversation, learning that Sir Reginald definitely didn’t want Sarya’s father to be his servant anymore. Arthur could understand Sir Reginald’s aggravation with how the work was not getting done well enough, but too he felt for Sarya’s father. To be without work would put their family at a great disadvantage. And work was a man’s pride. To put food upon your family’s table was an honor. To be without it could further along her father’s disease. Gazing upon the tearful girl’s face Arthur couldn’t stand it._

_There had to be something he could do…_

_And then it came to him._

_Bringing his horse, Arthur walked back to Sarya and Gwen. In his pocket were pieces of a carrot that he usually carried when riding._

_“Do you like horses, Sarya?” He asked softly._

_Gwen looked back at him with a frown, but Arthur kept his eyes on the girl, determined. She backed up against Gwen, making him hold back his exasperated sigh. Bending his knees, Arthur brought the carrot pieces out, his palm flat, held in the same way he would do with a skittish animal._

_“Here, why don’t you feed him? He goes by the name Fire’s Blade, as he has a bit of all that in him. Take the carrot and just lay your hand flat like I am now. He knows what to do then.” He told her with a reassuring smile._

_As the girl still didn’t move from Gwen’s side Arthur frowned with frustration. He looked up to her, almost pleading. Gwen smiled caringly, holding Sarya back to get her attention._

_“It’s okay. Really, Sarya. Arthur is a kind goodhearted king. He won’t hurt you. And when will you ever get a chance again to feed a horse of a noble, right? Go on now.” She pushed the girl forward gently._

_Sarya bit at her lip. Seeing it, Arthur smiled even more kindly, not moving toward her at all, just keeping the food for the horse flat out in his palm. As the girl finally approached, he said nothing, just let her take it from him._

_Quickly Sarya snatched it into her hand, but to his stallion she stepped up quite bravely. Arthur could see it quickly. Indeed she loved horses._

_Soon she was so taken by Fire’s Blade and enjoying feeding him so much, that she seemed more relaxed._

_Gwen stepped up to Arthur with a small grateful smile. “Well, you helped with her tears. She’s taken by the horse now. But that won’t help her father unfortunately.”_

_Arthur smiled with purpose. “I have a plan for that too.”_

_As Sarya continued to feed the horse, so comfortable with it now she’d pretty much forgotten the king’s presence, Arthur moved alongside, talking softly to not startle her. “I know of a young knight named Sir Paul who is needing of a bit of help, just a bit mind you. Sarya do you think your father would like to work for him? I think it would be a good match. Sir Paul will be so grateful for your father’s service.”_

_Not looking at him, still not fully settled with the king, though grateful for the chance to feed his horse, the girl whispered, “But sometimes Papa is too ill to work.”_

_“Oh that’s alright. You see…” He whispered, “Sir Paul likes to get a lot done himself, but too he is quite awful at tending to gardens. Your father can return just in time to make sure the plants recover from his over-watering. Now don’t you think that’s the perfect deal?”_

_The girl turned away from the horse, finally bravely facing the king who was bent to her level, smiling ever so gently. “Why would you do that for my Papa?”_

_There was a tear strolling down her cheek. Arthur fought to keep his emotions in check, stating honestly, “Because I am his king, and as King I make sure that the people of this land, as long as they are ready to rise to their duty like I do mine, are taken well care of. And because I would like you to trust me more Sarya. Now what do you say? Should we go talk to your Papa about this?”_

_“What if Sir Paul doesn’t like him?”_

_Arthur shook his head firmly. “I’ve known him for years. Don’t worry on that. He’ll like him.”_

_He brought out his hand tentatively, never needing acceptance so much as he did now from this young girl. “How about it?”_

_He didn’t want to be feared._

_Sarya looked down at his hand, unthreatening, then up to his face, kind. She placed her small hand into his larger one. Arthur clasped it gently, thinking how much smoother it was than his callused one. Then standing up, keeping hold of the girl’s hand, he felt it like a brush of warm wind upon his cheek._

_Gwen’s lips moved away as he asked her curiously, “What was that for?”_

_Taking Sarya’s other hand she whispered over the girl’s head, “Because I love you, and because you showed yourself just now to be the caring king I always knew you’d be.”_

The memory faded, Arthur searching the pillaged area desperately with his blue blazing eyes.

_Heaven, where was she?_

He wondered anxiously, because down upon the ground of an opened cattle stall was Sir Paul, dead, eyes wide open to whatever horror befell him. A line of blood trickled from his mouth, signaling that he was killed in a way that led to internal injury. More blood lined his chest. He must have been stabbed. Arthur tried to blink away the returned burning of his eyes, getting out roughly, “Savages.”

A bit beyond Arthur saw the parents lying similarly, but where was Sarya?

Clutching his jaw, Arthur moved over to her parents, hoping that it wasn’t the worst. He dropped down to his knees, feeling _it_ from each. “There’s a pulse.” It was the most reassuring thing he found since making his jump. _They were alive._ The problem was they were out in the open, and still no sign of Sarya. He had to find her and he had to get her parents somewhere safer. Arthur scanned the area, spotting another market cart with a pair of boots poking out from behind. They looked the size of a child’s. Stepping away from the unconscious parents, Arthur stopped at the cart, holding his sword out in case he was wrong about it being a child.

“Come out from there.” He ordered quietly.

No answer, no movement, Arthur added, almost certain now it was a child. “Come on. Don’t be frightened.”

Finally a face showed from behind the cart, dirtied and soot stained, _“Sarya.”_ Arthur breathed.

Shakily she asked, “King Arthur?”

He nodded, lowering his hand to her. “Yes. Come here. It’s alright.”

It must have been the horror of the war because she actually _rushed_ to him now, fingers clinging to his chainmail. “Mama and Papa are dead.” She stated with trembling lips.

Arthur shook his head strongly, arms gently wrapped around the girl. Before he could counter, she frantically related, “Sir Paul is too. He told me to run away and hide, turn away from them and not come out.”

Arthur let out a painful sigh. That was why she had been behind the cart. Sir Paul wanted to not only save her physically, but keep her from seeing anything awful. It was he too Arthur surmised who had protected her parents, sacrificing himself.

The match between Sir Paul and her family was a perfect one. They regularly invited him to dinner and he taught Sarya how to ride a horse. Plus each time her father grew ill, Sir Paul did just what Arthur suggested he would. He took over his house duties himself and checked with Gaius to make sure that the family was doing alright, the kindest knight ever really, and now he was gone.

“Fie.” Arthur hissed out over Sarya’s head, but then he faced her definitively. “Sarya, your mama and papa are alive. They’re hurt, yet breathing. You are right about Sir Paul though.”

Her eyes filled with tears, gratefulness, fear, and the pain of losing a friend, too many tangled emotions, Arthur thought. Once she had been so afraid of him. Now he could feel the girl not wanting to let him go. Gently he brushed away the windswept hair from her eyes, starting to fret. It had been merely moments since he jumped. Soon enough he’d be noticed.

 _Oh_ , his Camelot looked nothing more now like the gates of hell except for the still perfectly standing castle at its center. Bodies all around. Fires burning. Screams and whimpers. The stain of blood upon the streets. His beautiful home, ravaged, raped.

Arthur turned away from it, focusing again on Sarya, bringing his palms out to her shoulders, gently gripping them with his fingers. “I know this is frightening, Sarya. But I need you to be brave, okay? You showed such courage when you fed Fire’s Blade. I need you to show that same courage now.”

She was sobbing, but she bit at her bottom lip, giving a shaky nod of her head. “Okay.”

Arthur smiled slightly, coughing as a tendril of smoke blew their way. “Very good.” He did a quick search, finding a bit of the marketplace that was not touched at all. He could put them there, pray that it would be safe. But first he had to take care of his attire. Dressed in his ceremonial red and marked armor he was too obvious. If they realized he was the king they’d take him and then he could never help Sarya. So even though the metal and chainmail would be his greatest physical protection, Arthur pulled it all away now to conceal his identity. He didn’t stop until he was wearing nothing more on his upper body than the pale ash tunic Guinevere cleaned for him.

Sarya stared. Arthur whispered to her rapidly as he pulled her hand, leaving the marked clothing underneath a fallen market stand. “Come on. I don’t want them to know who I am.” He moved behind another abandoned cart, gesturing to the ground. “Stay on your knees and hide here Sarya. I ’m going to move your mama and papa to somewhere safer, alright?”

She followed his instructions right away, concealing herself behind the cart. Arthur was grateful that growing up a royal you learned quickly how to give command to get people to listen.

As Sarya hid, Arthur ran back to the opened stall. There was a building nearby. He’d hide them behind it, within the columns of stone. Arthur hefted each, one at time over his shoulder.

As he was returning to Sarya, he realized his blunder. Camelot guard would never attack a child. They’d be stripped of their uniform for such heinous action. But Helios’s men seemed to follow little conduct, for now one of them was suddenly standing behind the unsuspecting Sarya, raising his blade threateningly. Arthur leapt to action, whipping out his sword with fierce efficiency and letting out a guttural cry.

_“AAAHH!”_

As the man foolishly turned around, Arthur drove his blade straight into his heart. Sarya shrieked, jumping away. Arthur’s cut was clean. The lifeless man started to fall. Arthur grabbed Sarya’s hand, pulling her away just in time.

His warning cry brought him to attention quickly. Soon others of the army were there to avenge the death of one of their own. Finding Arthur in nothing but his pale ash tunic, they saw him as no threat. As the bulk of Camelot’s Guard was fighting in other areas at the moment, he had the disadvantage of no assistance.

Yet, he was raised to be a warrior and was a cunning swordfighter. Whipping around to face his foes, Arthur stiffened his arm downward in front of Sarya protectively. “Stay behind me!” He called out to her before lifting his blade to one of his attackers. Even with his training, it soon proved to be a grave challenge, keeping Sarya safe while having no body protection, and a too busied mind.

His adversary thus found leverage to counter Arthur’s impressive fighting skills. His blade slashed into the area directly above Arthur’s breast making him cry out with anguish. Almost falling to his knees from the shock of pain, blood leaking from the new wound, Arthur used his anger to drive his blade into the man’s stomach, killing him.

He darted his eyes to Sarya who was struggling to stay out of the fray as more of the Southron army came at him. He fought the first ones off, achieving a lull in the fighting that allowed him to finally catch his breath after that bad cut, but it wouldn’t last long.

Voices came from further away, one of them Helios, yelling at some of his men, getting them back into order. Just a little past him he could see Morgana too, firmly commanding that the killings stop and that the hunt begin for the king. Arthur watched cautiously as Morgana started ending some of the smaller fires with what looked like magic, flames just suddenly disappearing.

He couldn’t afford to be caught. His sword expertise would be no match against Morgana’s powers of malevolent sorcery.

Arthur took notice of the burning stable stalls across from where Morgana and Helios were. Some of the horses were starting to flee. Spotting a running mare, who he knew to be gentle, Arthur quickly waved with his arms to get her to stop. As she did, he grasped tightly to her mane. “Easy there, easy.” He did his best to cool her frightened temper. Then he turned backward.

“Sarya.” Arthur grabbed the girl’s arm, getting her to come in closer. He looked up at the mare with a grimace. She had no saddle on, no riding gear, _nothing_. It would have to do.

“Sarya, get on her.”

The girl looked up at the king with shock, but before she could say a word about his injury or anything else, he countered.

“No. Listen to me. She’s gentle and you’ve proved you’re good with horses. Sir Paul even gave you riding lessons. You can hold onto her mane and she’ll lead you out.” He pointed to the open and hazardous woodland. He had no other choice. Morgana and Helios seemed to be ceasing the killings, but now especially Sarya was vulnerable. She knew the whereabouts of the king. Arthur had no idea what kind of spells Morgana could use on the girl. He had to get her out of the kingdom.

“I can’t leave Mama and Papa.” The girl told him frightfully. His grasp tight on the mare’s mane, Arthur nodded rapidly. They didn’t have much time before Morgana might spot him or if not that, more of Helios’s men forced him to fight. “It’s okay. They’re alive. Remember that.”

Just a bit of distance away he could tell her house was in flames. He tried not to concentrate on it. The house could be rebuilt, not her life if she was captured. Reaching down, Arthur grasped the girl by the waist, lifting her up until she was astride the mare. Taking hold of her hands, he instructed. “Hold her right here.” He darted his eyes. Another group of men were coming after him. “You understand?”

The frightened girl nodded her head. Arthur tried to calm her nerves. “If you hold on tight you’ll be fine. Remember everything Sir Paul taught you. She’s a good one. He inched upward, whispering in her ear. _“Go to the east. Go to Ealdor. Direct her that way. You’ll find it. I know you will. She’s been there before.”_

She had. The first visit, Arthur recalled with a touch of pained sentimental thought, Guinevere rode her.

The girl’s brow wrinkled. “But what about you K-

He shook his head strongly before she could continue, bringing his hand up to silence her. “No. I’ll be fine. Now _GO_ Sarya! Give her a kick and get out of here!”

She hesitated for a second, probably not sure about leaving _home_ , but as he got ready to shout his command again, Sarya nodded her head, giving a kick that sent the mare on the move. She headed straight toward the gates. As Arthur sighed with relief he felt eyes upon him. He turned just fractionally, regretting it after he did.

_Morgana._

From the distance she was watching him with heated interest. As their eyes met for a quick second he saw something in her expression change. Fie. Just as it happened, a man of the army, not yet instructed to stop killing, came at him. Arthur brought out his sword to defend himself, looking to Sarya, seeing that she was just getting to the woodland. The man too now looked her way, an evil glint forming in his eye.

“NO!” Arthur yelled. The man had no morals. He’d go after the girl and kill her. Arthur purposely picked a fight with the man, his mind flashing to Merlin, how sometimes his loud idiocy actually worked, and so now Arthur yelled out ugly insults. Soon his nemesis was fighting him, for the time being forgetting about the girl. After a few strikes, Arthur caught him in a vulnerable spot. He delivered a hard swipe to the man’s shoulder. As the man nursed it, Arthur whipped around, finding another horse running by. The same way he stopped the mare, he ceased this one’s movement, speaking calmly as he saw the horse’s nostrils and eyes flaring with tension. Across the way he heard the command, coming just a bit closer now. She indeed had recognized him, and now gave the order.

“GET HIM! Capture Arthur and bring him back to me. NOW.”

Arthur glanced back and forth between the two, weighing each issue. On the far side he had a faction of Helios’s men in hot pursuit, ready to capture _the fallen king_ for the new queen. On the side closest he had the foe he’d been fighting who now wanted to go after Sarya . If he caught her she’d die. Arthur felt he had no choice. He had to get out of Camelot now.

Grabbing the horse’s mane, sword sheathed, Arthur was too distracted to realize that his foe had finished nursing his wound. As he started to climb atop the horse’s back, the foe stalked to his side, bringing his sword out with furious intent. The moment Arthur grasped the horse’s mane, his nemesis directed the blade of his sword upward and shoved it into his vulnerable flesh, just missing piercing his heart, but doing grave enough damage.

Arthur screamed.

It was like an explosion, his upper body erupting into serrations of hot pain. Hands bitterly shaking, Arthur reached up, grasping the blunt edge of the sword and twisting it away from his bleeding upper body. His tunic ripped shrilly, his flesh bubbling with anguish. Tears burned in Arthur’s eyes, his breath choked. All he could do was use the minor advantage of being seated upon the horse. Arthur pulled on the stallion’s mane and gave it as much a kick he could muster, sending it into a wild gallop away from Camelot.

***

“Oh no.”

Percival muttered before feeling Gwaine strongly pulling him back behind a column. Just a few feet away from them at the southern side of the castle was a band of Helios’s men and Agravaine locking Elyan into shackles.

“We have to help him.” Percival muttered with feeling. After over a year now of fighting together, all the knights Arthur had brought into service during Morgana’s first attack were close as they, and Leon, were the ones the king mostly brought with him on excursions out of Camelot.

Gwaine shook his head. “What, and get captured too?”

“But-

Gwaine, _the silly knight_ , took command, using his sense, to argue the strong point. “Percival, I’m as twisted up about this as you, but Elyan’s strong. He knows what to do. We still have to find the king.”

Percival hated it, knew that Gwaine probably didn’t like it much more either. Finding Arthur was crucial to the kingdom’s peaceful continuance. “Right. Come on.”

They backed away from the columns, leaving Elyan to his fate.

***

Away now from Camelot, the forest was dark and riddled with barriers. Arthur had only been riding for a few fast moments, but already was being faced with many obstacles. His vision was not very good as the tears kept forming in his eyes from the pain of his wounds, his body slick with sweat and the shine of blood. His hands kept losing their endeavor to hold tight to the horse’s mane. After a fifth time of them sliding off, Arthur leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the sloppy neck instead and keeping his head lowered. The horse, riddled with perspiration and wearing no bridle or saddle, provided feeble support at best.

 _“Mgggmmm…”_ Arthur moaned with rawness. It hurt so much every time his chest hit against the horse’s flank, causing further abrasions to already inflicted areas.

It was just a murmur of sound, but he could swear the foe who had thought of going after Sarya was thoroughly chasing him now on horseback. Arthur had led him in the opposite direction she had gone, but honestly he was losing sight of his own whereabouts right now. All he could tell for sure was that his fast ride was taking him further away from Camelot, a fact he didn’t like at all. The familiar forest that he usually knew so well now felt like a twisting mind-bending labyrinth.

His chest smacked against the horse’s flank again, making Arthur grunt in misery. _“Aahhh…”_

He couldn’t continue like this. His skin felt hot, clammy, and where he was injured dense patches of blood shined foully. It had to be far enough away that Sarya would be safe. There was no other choice for if his body kept slamming into the horse’s, more wounds would be ripped open. It put him in grave peril, but maybe it could be seen as the lesser evil. He had to slow down the horse to keep from hurting his chest more, and to keep the horse from taking a tumble.

Lifting his head just enough to get his cheek bolstered by its neck, Arthur pulled at the horse’s mane, getting the animal to slow. His seating had been losing bolster for a while now, and as he slowed it got even worse. Body oils from the horse combined with his own sweat and blood flow helped none. Even as he tried to tangle his grimy fingers into the horse’s hairs, he felt his grip slackening, his body leaning hazardously to the side. As the horse jumped over a bramble of brush, his fall began and so fervently injured, he was helpless to prevent it.

Arthur’s battered body slid away from the horse’s sweating flank and then tumbled to the side. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, rolling without control upon its coarseness.

***

Gwaine and Percival carefully made their way through the castle, the bulk of it now taken by Helios’s army and so they had to cautiously keep out of sight. As they made their way past the now empty kitchens, they heard voices coming from down the stairs. Gwaine whispered to Percival, “Morgana.” They hid within one of the tall stone arches, listening in.

_“Your men should be better minded.”_

_“It’s been a brutal fight Morgana. And you gave the order to kill civilians, make examples.”_

_“That didn’t mean they had permission to end the lives of so many and destroy a multitude of homes. If we want the people to mind us, we must have some of their respect. Plain fear will not work, nor will hatred. Make sure in the future they refrain from such recklessness. I’ve already had to put a temporary physician in place for the ones who were injured.”_

_“We could simply let them die if their wounds are that bad.”_

_“No. And once again you fail to understand. Having no care for them at all will lead to anarchy. I want the people’s trust. Fear will be part of it, but not everything.”_

_“Understood.”_

_There was a long pause._

_“So…he got away.”_

_“Yes, but my men are in pursuit now. Those closest to the gate said he looked like he was bleeding heavily and that another of my men was pursuing him.”_

_“I want him found. Already his servant has disappeared.”_

_“What would he matter anyway if he’s nothing but a servant?”_

_“Oh Helios, this is not just any servant. His loyalty to Arthur is almost sickening, which could be used to our advantage. I just hope Emrys doesn’t come. I’ve had visions that he would try to end our rule.”_

_“Who is Emrys?”_

_“Never mind. You said he was bleeding heavily?”_

_“That’s what a few of my men said.”_

_“And yet they failed to catch him.”_

_“He was riding fast. They caught no more than a blur. And he was in simple clothing, dirtied, not so easily recognizable.”_

_“I suppose I can’t blame them for that. A great distance separated us when I first saw him and with what he was wearing I didn’t identify him either, not until he turned to face me. No matter. If he’s so gravely injured he won’t get far, not alone.”_

_“Right. I’m sure my men will be back with him soon, that he’ll have no choice, but to give up.”_

_“Oh now don’t underestimate him. He rode out of Camelot and to do that, he must have had a strong reason. The Arthur Pendragon I know would never leave his kingdom while it was under attack. He’d rather stay and die on the battlefield. Make no mistake of it. Something impelled him to leave. And so it’s possible that could be used against him.”_

_“Once he is captured.”_

_“Yes. And be sure of it that he IS, Helios.”_

There was a long drawn out sigh. _“He will be.”_

Then a pair of footsteps signaled the departure of both.

Carefully they came out of their hiding, Percival facing Gwaine pointedly. “He’s hurt.”

Gwaine nodded, adding to it, “He left? Alone?”

Percival shook his head. “Morgana’s right about one thing. Definitely strange for him.”

“Right.” Gwaine didn’t have a good feeling about this and by seeing the deep concern on Percival’s face he could tell his friend felt the same. “Okay, look, we need to get out of here. She’s taken most of the castle. If Arthur fled, and is injured, we need to find him.”

Percival heavily agreed. “If anything’s happened to him, Camelot will fall permanently under Morgana’s rule. Gwaine, such thing would be-

Gwaine curtly cut him off, “Hell. Yeah…come on Percival. Let’s go find him.”

They moved briskly away from the kitchens, but with care. There could be traps anywhere, especially now that the king was no longer even in the kingdom.

***

Said king whimpered now in agony as finally the brutal rolling of his body stopped. Behind him he could hear the pounding of horse’s hooves, getting closer… _and closer_. With each second, it was stronger, the vibrations hitting the earth. He couldn’t be captured. Arthur clawed at the earth desperately.

He had to get back to Camelot. He only left to protect Sarya, who hopefully was on her way safely to Ealdor, as he had led his adversary away from her route. Now he needed to get back to the land he loved. If he was going to die, it’d be defending his kingdom, not as some _refugee_ who abandoned his home. Never had he felt more miserable in physical self as much as heart and soul.

Footsteps permeated his hearing, the horse’s hooves ended. He looked around to his side, noticing it now, _the disappearance of it_. When he fell from the horse, his weapon belt fell from his waist, slackened probably when he had removed his armor. Arthur wasn’t sure how good he would have been at using his sword in the poor condition he was in now, but at least it could have helped _some_ with defense.

Now he had nothing.

His palms sinking into the muddy ground, his knees drilled into it, the noise of the footsteps was getting louder. Arthur lifted his head just a touch with cold prickles of dread, seeing against an Oak tree trunk a hovering shadow lit up by the moon’s pallid glow. He was trapped with no way out.

Suddenly it came, a fierce unyielding yank at the top of his hair. Arthur winced, but found his one last bit of strength. Adrenaline and fury were his friends. Pulling back, he ruthlessly shoved his elbow straight to the offending man’s ribs. It made the other cry out angrily. It wasn’t enough. With his first truly strong shock of fear in years, Arthur realized he was soon about to die, or if not, he’d be taken back to Camelot, and forced to his knees shamefully in front of his people. Morgana would do everything she could, so would his uncle and Helios until he bowed to the new queen. This injured he’d have no choice. Maybe she’d kill others in front of him to make her point until he begged her to stop.

And it all made Arthur feel sick, bile sitting disgustedly in his throat. It was never supposed to be this way. He always pictured his death on the battlefield, protecting his land, the people he loved, married to-

God in Heaven, where was _she?_ If only he could see her, feel her weaving dark curls lock in his fingers, make sure she was safe. Inside his heart cried out. And as it did, he grew furious with his own weaknesses. This man wanted to take him, well fine, but he’d do everything he could to take him down too.

If this was to be his last breaths, it wouldn’t be as some feeble coward.

He crawled, unable to stand so not even trying to. On his knees and the palms of his hands, he tried to get away. But the other was soon at him again, this time pulling his hair back so fiercely, it ripped at his scalp. Not even pride could keep Arthur from letting out a moan that formed deep in his throat, the pain sharp and tearing. The man of Helios’s army faced him with vile disgust. Lifting his knife he brought it to Arthur’s throat, but then he stopped, stared, looking down at Arthur much more closely. Arthur could tell when it came to him as the man whispered with incredulity,

“You-you’re the king.”

“And you all are the vilest scum.” Arthur managed to mutter, before feeling his eyes roll back into his head. That one insult might be his last. His body sagged.

The man let out a wild laugh. Oh how Helios, Morgana and Agravaine would reward him. He got the king. But first, he was going to deal with him his own way for all the insulting cracks earlier. The orders were only to bring him back alive. No one said he had to be in _perfect_ condition.

He pressed his blade against Arthur’s thin tunic, ripping away some of the already torn material. Then he shook him by the hair, getting the king to blearily come back to awareness.

He whispered crudely into the king’s ear, hearing Arthur grunt and feeling him start up a struggle, albeit feeble. “The Lady Morgana is going to award me, be sure of that. But first, your repentance for being so rude to me earlier.” He brought his knife threateningly against Arthur’s already abused flesh, prepared to make one punishing cut. Then he’d drag him back to his ruined land to the new queen, and smile with satisfaction as the broken man was forced to kneel before her.

Arthur could only weakly watch, feeling his eyes closing, and his bloodied feverish body drifting into the black pool of unconsciousness.

The man brought the knife down to cut, but before the blade could make contact, _another_ one ripped through his back.

“Get away from him.”

The man looked down in shock, seeing its tip edge out of his stomach now. “What-

He feebly got out, before falling forward, the blade having torn through his insides, ending his life rapidly.

With a wrench of her brows, she unstuck the blade from his lifeless body. It was bloodied so she cleaned it on the debris of dirt on the forest floor. Then going down to her knees, she touched the cheek of the other man with great tenderness and horror in her eyes.

There was _much_ blood.

_“Arthur.”_

Gwen whispered.

***

Will be continued in **Four:** **_The Burning Fever of Love_**

 **Excerpt:** _Tenderly she stroked his chest with wet cooled hands, whispering, “You will not die. I will not let you. It is not your time. I have always believed in you. Always loved you. I will do all I can to take this fever from you, to keep your wounds from infecting, but you must hold on. You must be strong. Your people need you to live and be the ruler, the king they love. Now whatever has passed, it does not matter. Arthur you must get well._

_You must.”_

_She sobbed against him, her body shaking over his. It had been so long since she had seen him, and now that she was once again, she was committed to one thing._

_He would open his eyes…_

_And see her._

**Author’s Notes:** This is where the story really moves apart from the show’s direction. I wanted to separate Arthur from his knights, forcing him to be lost in the forest, and the only way was having him protect a young citizen. The secret door, uh, it’s a castle, I can pretend they would have a secret way to get out that nobody else knew about, right? Well, I took some liberties. 

Thank you for reading.


	4. The Burning Fever of Love

**Title:** Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow

***

**Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow**

**Four: _The Burning Fever of Love_**

Departing Camelot on horseback, each knight able to catch a horse that was fleeing from the burning barn, they traveled underneath the shadowy moon, coming to the dark density of the woodland. The only thing that cut through the black was the red and orange patches littering the sky, a byproduct of the attack on Camelot. They turned their heads from one side to the other, searching, as there was a chance that if Arthur was injured when he fled the kingdom, he may have stopped to rest in the forest.

Still uncertain why he fled so urgently, they were concerned too about Elyan’s capture, for Morgana could be truly ruthless. Some comfort came from the fact that Elyan was strong of mind, as all knights of Camelot had to be. Arthur taught them not only about physical combat, but had also showed them that there were ways for soldiers to persevere mentally through the most heinous situations if they calmed their fears.

Hearing something within all the quiet, Gwaine gestured to Percival. Quietly they brought their horses to a halt and climbed down from their backs. Listening for a moment then they used their hands, giving voiceless signals, barring a few words.

_“Over there.”_

The bristle of noise came again from within the gathering oaks and ascending pines. It was possible it was an animal, that implying its own kind of danger; if it was a _person_ it could be one of the enemy fighters. They had managed so far to avoid Helios’s armies. This could be one hiding in hopes of an ambush. Each was ready, sword in hand.

Percival reached within the trees, grasping hold of an arm and pulling the person out swiftly. Both he and Gwaine reacted with shock at the dirtied and frightened little girl.

“Sarya?”

***

“Arthur…” Gwen whispered again.

Her fingers lifted away some of his sweating hairs from his brow, noticing with angered dismay the speckles of blood at his scalp’s line. It got worse she soon realized as she looked down at the blood soaked ash tunic. From his body came no movement, even as she said his name repeatedly. Lowering her fingers she found the first good sign, his pulse beating well enough to reassure her that for the moment he was just unconscious.

Her wayward curls, for so long not groomed properly, fell over her eyes. Restlessly Gwen pushed them backward and looked over at the man she had killed with the sword she found on the ground. She was almost certain the arsenal was Arthur’s.

The man was lying with his face down, a dense patch of blood under his abdomen, getting little of her sympathy. She had only heard bits at the end, saw trickles of what he did to Arthur, but it had been enough to fuel her anger to take him out with just one blow to his vitals. Perhaps now deceased his attire and weaponry could be useful.

As she approached him she heard it, the distinct sound of horse’s hooves stamping and stomping upon the woodland ground. Gwen ceased her movements. If they found their fallen comrade they would find her too. And with Arthur unconscious he couldn’t protect himself. Debating for a handful of seconds on what to do first, she came up with a plan of action.

She would pull Arthur’s body within a cluster of foliage. Then she would drag the fallen man into an area with fallen trees from a previous wind storm in which some of the earth had formed into a hole about three feet deep, and cover him with forest debris. Finally she would pull Arthur to her place of shelter for the past few days.

None of it would be an easy task. Her meals of late had been sparse and barely nourishing, leaving her weak physically. After being hunted in the wood by Helios’s men and Morgana, she was riddled with bruises and scrapes, her body sore in various places. So her one _friend_ would be adrenaline.

Bending down, she slipped her hands under Arthur’s arms, grasping tightly at his armpits and heaving vigorously. Her limbs gave ache right away. Arthur ate well and topped upon that was his prevalent muscled build from years of fighting and training. Ignoring her discomfort, she toiled with purpose until finally she got him to the cluster of trees.

“Okay…now him…” She let out through taxed breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly from her efforts.

The man of Helios’s army was even heftier than Arthur. She dropped him twice when her sweating dirtied hands slipped away from his stoutness. There would be no time to use his outer clothing or weaponry she surmised now, as getting both her and Arthur out of the open was the most important thing. She’d drop the man in the hole, cover him up swiftly, and then rush back to her king.

It took much strain of her muscles to get him to the hole, but finally she achieved it, throwing some forest debris upon his body.

Standing afterward, she lifted her eyes, spotting above the treetops the orange red clouds of smoke lifting into the sky. It gave her no doubt that Camelot was under attack, hence the reason for Arthur’s wounds. What she didn’t get was why he would flee in nothing more than a simple tunic and without his knights. She couldn’t think of any scenario where Arthur would allow himself to be chased into the wood, no guard in attendance.

 _Feeling_ the vibrations now through the earth, hearing the sounds of trampled nature, Gwen shook away her thoughts. They would soon be here.

Panting heavily, she ran swiftly back to Arthur.

***

They knew Sarya as the young daughter of a peasant man that Sir Paul had working for him. Now, both Percival and Gwaine were stunned to see her so deep within the wood. Although many had probably fled Camelot this night, it gravely concerned them that she seemed to be _alone_.

After getting an explanation from her they understood her situation and finally began to comprehend what made their king depart Camelot. He was protecting Sarya of course, after those heathens killed Sir Paul and grievously injured her parents. As she came to the end of her story the adrenaline that must have kept her emotions in check, wavered, and the tears started to fall down her face. Coming forward, maybe a hefty giant size of a man, but a soft soul, Percival reached for her, soothing with his somewhat clumsy words, and tendering her tangles of hair with his big hands.

“It’s alright Sarya. I’m sure your parents are well. The king made certain of that.”

Squatting down, Gwaine agreed, rubbing the girl’s back as he exchanged a troubled look with Percival about the king’s possible predicament. “Yes, Sarya. Percival’s right. Now you said that the king left after you. Did you see the way he went at all?”

Sarya moved away from Percival’s gentle hold just enough to look up at Gwaine, his expression kind as he held at her back. “No Sir Gwaine. I’m not entirely sure. I only saw him ride away from where I did and then I saw him no more. There was a terrible man following him. I hope King Arthur is alright.”

Percival and Gwaine exchanged another tight look, concern drilling through both their minds as Arthur was without a doubt a warrior fighter, but injured as badly as it sounded he was, what kind of fight could he put up against a man like that?

They needed to talk this out. Feeling in his pocket, finding some bits of carrot, something most riders carried, Gwaine gestured meaningfully toward the girl. “Sarya, will you feed the horses? I’d be most grateful.”

The girl gave a glimmer of a smile, heading to her task with solid purpose, getting a reprieve from the horribleness of this night.

Keeping a careful watch on her and guarding the area with their eyes for potential enemy fighters, Percival and Gwaine talked, Percival starting to wonder if maybe they should go back, resulting in Gwaine’s rebuttal.

“We can’t do that. Morgana already has Elyan. We go back, she takes us too.”

Tightly grimacing, Percival argued. “I can fight her. Can fight any man, definitely can face up to a woman.”

“One that’s a sorceress?” Gwaine asked pointedly. “She’s powerful Percival. She’s not going to stop at anything. I can go against any brawn too, but her magic-

“If she has Arthur though, Gwaine, we’re leaving our king to the worst fate. You heard what Sarya said, and Helios too. Arthur was leaning in his saddle, barely able to ride. If they captured him…then we’re abandoning our sovereign. What if she kills him? We need to go back. It is our duty and beyond that, Arthur is our friend.”

Strongly Gwaine shook his head, even as there was no ease in his protest. “No. Morgana won’t kill him right away. She’s not like that. She’d rather humiliate him first, let him see the worst. And maybe he wasn’t caught. Maybe he is on his way to Ealdor. Percival, we go back and we get captured. That will help nothing. There’s Sarya too. We need to make sure she’s safe. Arthur would want that. If he’s not in Ealdor once we arrive, then at least we can strengthen our forces there and be back in Camelot in a few days.”

“And what if she does have him now and they kill Arthur? What then, Gwaine?”

“We’d be no help to him anyway if she captured _us_. Percival we only have one choice. You know that. I’m not saying it’s an easy one to take, but we can’t leave Sarya. The best way to do this is for all of us to go to Ealdor. And hope he’s there.”

Dully knowing Gwaine was right, Percival slowly nodded his head. “Let’s go now then.”

***

It was as she was towing Arthur she heard the increasingly thundering sounds of the horse’s hooves, felt the stronger pounding vibrations under her feet. Gwen had no choice but to crouch down with his slack body behind the bushes and trees. Bringing her hair away from her ear, she watched and listened in as the men, four of them, dismounted their horses. The woman in the black dress behind them made her almost gasp aloud.

_Morgana._

_“You let him escape before. See to it that doesn’t happen this time or there will be consequences.”_

_“Yes my lady.”_ The voices came back a bit disorderly. They were not as well trained and coordinated as Camelot guard, but they were fierce fighters for sure with a slew of impressively frightening weapons hanging from their belts. Gwen fretted now what that could mean. If they found her, she could maybe hurt one man, but all four and with Morgana a sorceress? _No._ She needed a miracle.

Hearing a weak moan, she turned her eyes to Arthur. His tunic was soaked in blood. If left unattended to, he could die. Ripping away a piece of the bizarre outfit Helios had her wear, careful to keep the sound from carrying, she brought it to his bloodied skin, pressing down firmly to squelch the blood’s flow.

_“Search this area well and everything surrounding it. I want not a single patch of land left unturned. Your welfare depends upon the finding of Arthur Pendragon. Hunt like a wolf would. I want him FOUND.”_

Gwen shivered at that, Morgana’s words so intense and threatening that the men under her command would not stop until her orders were carried out precisely. She was just a few feet away, barely hidden by the trees. She could try to move to that hole she put their other member in, but the noise would alert them.

She looked up to the fiery skies, _silently praying_.

Holding still for long moments of time she felt it as they neared, the heat of breath cutting through the evening’s cold from one of the men. It made her grasp the sword tighter with intent.

In Camelot she had order and civility. Here there was none of that. Morgana had turned her into a hunted beast, literally, when she gave her the body of a wild deer. That brought on alterations to Gwen’s demeanor since. Even though she was not at all bloodthirsty, she would take a life to save the man she loved. And after what Morgana did, she would hold little remorse for her actions of survival.

She lifted the blade parallel to her breast, prepared to thrust and make contact if need be. It happened then though, like an odd miracle that heard her earlier prayers. As the man started to pull away the brush, she heard it, and so did they.

“What is that?” The man asked, lowering his hand. They all turned to look, Morgana’s eyes scrutinizing with the sharpness of a needle.

“ _The sound of a horse. Could be more._.” She whispered meaningfully. _“Nearing. That must be him. Hurry!”_

They all climbed back upon their mounts, rapidly turning them toward the sound, riding away with angry kicks of dirt from the horse’s hooves.

Once they were gone, Gwen let out the breath she’d been holding, lowering the sword with relief, ever so grateful for the distraction. Now finally she could get both of them to shelter.

Up again upon her feet, she tugged Arthur’s bleeding body, ignoring the bolts of pain viciously traversing through her arms.

***

It was as Gwaine, Percival and Sarya were riding swiftly through the forest, while checking for any sign of their king, they heard the sudden rumble of horses moving behind them. Gwaine urged his horse closer to Sarya and the mare she was riding, grasping the young girl’s waist tightly. She shrieked, unsettled by the rash feel of his hands. Gwaine barely had time to calm her before he heard a distinct voice clearly. He and Percival exchanged whitened looks.

_“Morgana.”_

“Yeah, come on. Sorry Sarya we got to leave your horse!” Gwaine pressed forward, keeping the girl firmly against him, riding his stallion at a dangerous and yet necessary pace. Percival followed rapidly as the abandoned mare gave a shrill whinny, running in the other direction.

Even if she wasn’t meant to be a decoy, she became a powerful one now. Hearing the clamor of her retreat, Morgana and the men from Helios’s army chased her down, not realizing it was just one horse without a rider they were pursuing.

***

 _“Aaaahhh…”_ Gwen grunted, slipping on a patch of forest growth while tugging Arthur’s limp body.

She managed to keep herself from falling, getting to the cave’s entrance. Bending her knees, because it had a low ceiling, she pulled Arthur inside with one last aching force of her arms. Then, exhausted from it all, she sagged against the rocky wall.

***

Morgana’s expression was livid, which made Percival smile just a tad as he hid with his horse, keeping the animal calm and preoccupied with bits of carrot. If they had planned it all, it couldn’t have gone better. Letting the mare go had worked in their favor. Morgana and Helios’s men had heatedly pursued it and now seemed to be realizing their blunder.

From his hiding spot, crouched deep within the oaks and pines, Percival listened in cautiously. It was risky holding back for sure, but after a bit of following Gwaine’s lead he had done so to see why Morgana and Helios’s men cut short their pursuit. If need be it could have also served as a diversion, allowing Gwaine to get Sarya away from the danger. Now it seemed that wasn’t yet necessary, for their foes made a crucial error.

 _“They had someone with them.”_ Morgana stated.

It was loud enough that Percival could covertly hear her.

_“Maybe that’s why Arthur left so quickly. We know he was hurt, but it seems he was also protecting someone.”_

Through the tangled oak leaves and pine branches, he could see her mouth tighten to a grimace. It stayed that way for a moment or two before her eyes brightened with thought.

_“Okay. This is what we’re going to do. You two head that way and look for any trail they may have taken. Be careful though. If they know they’re being pursued they may try to confuse the route they took.”_

Percival smiled further at that comment. Indeed they _had_ and this little mare made it even more unclear.

 _“And you two keep searching this area of the wood, advancing further if need be. I’ll search with you for a bit, and then I need to get back to Camelot and deal with our _distinguished_ prisoner, _Sir_ Elyan, see what he has to say about all of this”_ The name of the knight was spoken with mocking. Percival had to fight the urge to not jump out of the trees and swing his sword at her.

One thing lightened his mood. She had _no_ idea either where Arthur was. _Ah_ , injured yes, but their king was safe.

It wasn’t until the sound of their retreating horses had faded completely, Percival mounted his horse again. He had to catch up with Gwaine.

***

“Oh these wounds are deep. And your skin, it’s hot, dry. A fever’s growing within you.” Gwen lamented, tearing away the last bits of Arthur’s tunic.

He was bleeding more than she liked, some dried, yes, but too much still flowing. She tore at more of her purple glimmering pants, that hideous outfit Helios had her wear. Applying further pressure where it was needed, she worked to stop the bleeding completely.

This tiny cave had been her home for days now. She found it after Merlin came to see her and suggested she go to Ealdor. Hunith and the people of Ealdor would be kind and noble enough to graciously provide her with shelter she was certain.

She had been held back though by the foreboding fear that Camelot was in danger, a fear that had come true this night. When she saw Merlin she told him what Morgana, Helios and Agravaine had planned, to take Camelot by using its secret layout. It seemed the warning had fallen upon deaf ears for the king, _this_ the fallout.

What was surprising was that he was alone. It would be the duty of every knight to protect their sovereign. Merlin too would not leave Arthur’s side. Something must have happened to have separated them, to have made Arthur flee to the forest.

_“Mmmm…hh…mmm…”_

As she moved within the cave, to soak up the dampness in its rear corner, she heard his weak moans. She tore off another lower piece of her pants and dipped it into the shallow water. Then making her way back, she lowered the cool wet cloth upon his hot forehead. “ _Shhhh_ ….rest. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

It was a harshly isolated environment they both were in, something _she_ had been thrust into for almost a week now, and even prior to that. Days before the cave she had taken refuge in a village Gaius told her about. Although the people had been mostly kind, they were also quiet, hard working. None of them cared to start up solid friendships as their lives were simple, centered on survival of their families. _No matter._ After being forced to leave Camelot in such disgrace, she didn’t want to associate much anyway, keeping to herself as she did her work. Now, his company was the first lasting kind in a while.

Running the wet material over Arthur’s face, down his bared chest, the tunic ripped severely enough to expose it, she recalled something. He had promised something to her long ago, before they started any kind of relationship, _that her house would always be hers_. A day before their wedding was supposed to have taken place, he had forced her to leave that same house, and the only kingdom she ever called home.

_How vastly things could change._

She knew there were some women who would not care to help a man who banished them. There would be others who would be so indulgent they’d weep away their life away after losing such man and beg him for forgiveness. Gwen put herself in the middle. A part of her didn’t want to trust, while the other cared not to push upon him any blame. It was simple really. She loved him. Banishment couldn’t cease that. Her heart had ached without him and was aching still to see him now so fevered, so sick.

With that his body started to thrash wildly, almost as if complaining at physically being ignored as she mused. _Typical of nobility, Arthur rarely did well with not being paid to mind._ It would be amusing if he wasn’t still losing blood and if the bulk of his skin wasn’t so dry and hot like a burning desert. It was hard to keep his body down with her limbs so taxed, but she did her best, tears filling her eyes.

“Stop.”

She brought the wet rag further down his chest, soaking his body with cool moisture. “Don’t move so. You’ll hurt yourself.” The cavern was full of spiked rock that if you moved too suddenly you could cut yourself upon. She wanted no such harm to come to him. She had endured enough of it her first nights, receiving not so pretty irritating scrapes.

As nothing seemed to work to calm him, Gwen thought for a moment of the story Gaius told her the night before she departed Camelot. Wrapped within it was her own distant memory, always so hazy, and yet _now_ she could feel it swirling more evidently.

As Arthur’s body thrashed again violently, she firmly put her palms down upon his shoulders, shuddering at the boiling heat there coming from his skin. She wouldn’t let go. She’d let it burn her own palms as long as needed to get him to calm. Parting her half blistered lips, the forest not all that kind, she hoarsely began to sing it, her voice not used to being utilized so much since the banishment, even more-so since Morgana’s beastly enchantment thrust her away from most civilization.

__**When the nyhtegale singes,  
** The wodes waxen grene,  
Lef ant gras ant blosme springes  
In Averyl, Y wene ;  
Ant love is to myn herte gon  
With one spere so kene,  
Nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes  
Myn herte deth me ten 

She sang it in the old language, the one her memory held. It was how her mother used to sing it, with those words of times ago. Feeling him thrash some more, she didn’t give up the song, just brought her hands under his bared shoulders. Gwen pulled until Arthur’s head was resting upon her lap. Then wiping further at his chest to cool him as much as possible, she sang another part.

__**Ich have loved al this yer  
** That Y may love na more;  
Ich have siked moni syk,  
Lemmon, for thin ore,  
Me nis love neuer the ner,  
Ant that me reweth sore;  
Suete lemmon, thench on me,  
Ich have loved the yore. 

She felt his violent movements lessening. _Good_ , Gwen thought. It was working to calm him, similar to how when they were just babes her presence seemed to ease his sobs for his mother.

Gwen chilled though as she heard _it_.

Voices of a search party. They were looking for him still. She stopped singing. Soon enough Arthur’s wild thrashing started again. She grimaced tightly at it.

Too dangerous it was to sing to him without the possibility of being heard. If Morgana found him, Arthur would have no chance and neither would Camelot. But his writhing was too precarious.

Bringing her head down so her lips moved right above his face, Gwen sang ever so quietly so only he could hear. As she did, his body’s movements lost their vigor.

****_Suete lemmon, Y preye thee,_  
Of love one speche;  
Whil Y lyve in world so wyde  
Other nulle Y seche.  
With thy love, my suete leof,  
My blis thou mihtes eche;  
A suete cos of thy mouth  
Mihte be my leche. 

The lyrics of the song held within certain sadness, a shadowed effect of much of the music of the time. But to contrast the sobering lyrics the melody was sweetly uplifting. Gwen felt that singing it so intimately, softly, lessened her fears of being found.

__**Suete lemmon, Y preye theew  
** Of a love-bene:  
Yef thou me lovest, ase men says,  
Lemmon, as I wene,  
Ant yef hit thi wille be,  
Thou loke that hit be sene;  
So muchel Y thenke vpon the  
That al y waxe grene. 

Arthur’s fever was still faintly there, but he was barely losing blood anymore, and breaking out a sweat where earlier his skin had been burning with dryness. She shakily hoped that meant the worst of his sickness was passing. Before she sang the last verse, Gwen brought to his face sprinkles of water, gently pressing it into his skin to keep him as cool as possible. The cave wasn’t terribly warm, something she lamented most nights, but didn’t mind much now as it helped to lower his temperature.

__**Bituene Lyncolne ant Lyndeseye,  
** Norhamptoun ant Lounde,  
Ne wot I non so fayr a may,  
As y go fore ybounde.  
Suete lemmon, Y preye the  
Thou lovie me a stounde;  
Y wole mone my song  
On wham that hit ys on ylong. 

With the song complete, Gwen rested her cheek upon the top of Arthur’s head, feeling the hot sweat rained through his hair. Tenderly she stroked his chest with wet cooled hands, whispering, “You will not die. I will not let you. It is not your time. I have always believed in you. Always loved you. I will do all I can to take this fever from you, to keep your wounds from infecting, but you must hold on. You must be strong. Your people need you to live and be the ruler, the king they love. Now whatever has passed, it does not matter. Arthur you must get well.

 _You must._ ”

She sobbed against him, her body shaking over his. It had been so long since she had seen him, and now that she was once again, she was committed to one thing.

He would open his eyes…

And see _her_.

***

“Gwaine!”

Percival called out. When his fellow knight didn’t slow down, Percival yelled again, this time getting the other’s attention.

“What is it?” Gwaine asked after stopping his horse, holding to Sarya’s waist, noticing that Percival was jumpy to say more.

Catching his breath first, after a fast furious ride, Percival told him how he had seen Morgana and her men, found out they were chasing Sarya’s abandoned horse, and that he knew for sure now Morgana did not have the king.

To the last part Gwaine breathed a sigh of relief and _some_ of the tension elevated from Sarya’s face, the unknown fate of her parents still bothering her.

Understanding she was fearful, Gwaine tried to reassure. “Sarya, we will find the king. Maybe he’s already on his way to Ealdor. And your parents will be alright too. You’ll see them again.”

She said nothing, just nodded her head with as much hope she could muster. Gwaine and Percival exchanged looks, wishing they knew without a doubt that her parents would be alright. But it was all as up in the air as Elyan’s fate was. Maybe even the king’s.

Nevertheless, the important thing was not to get captured themselves. They started their horses up again, knowing it was too soon to stop somewhere to rest. They’d have to keep riding for at least a few more hours to make sure Morgana and Helios’s men didn’t catch up to them.

***

Merlin, Gaius and Leon had stopped to rest in the wood. Then as morning dawn approached they started their ride again to Ealdor.

Now as the sun had yet to rise and the dawning mist sat square in the sky, they came to the rural little village. Merlin felt his breath alter as he came to the place of his birth. It was rare he was able to visit and even though the circumstances now were not good ones at all, it filled his heart to think he’d be seeing his mother.

He looked back to Gaius, noticing that the elder man’s face was wearied from their long ride. He’d talk to his mother about setting up a cot for him.

As he neared his house, some of those he knew reacted, displaying their excitement right away and asking if the king was with him. Merlin smiled at that. Arthur was popular with most of the villagers after his assistance in defeating Kanen and his accomplices. Merlin had to tell them that Arthur was not with him this time, at least not yet. He was hoping that he was safe and would be arriving soon.

Left alone to approach his small simple stone house, he could just make out the familiar form of his mother, her back to him as she tended to the farmed land. Like the rest, she was up ever so early.

 _“Mother…”_ He whispered.

She turned around, her eyes wide with surprise, before a smile of joy curved at her lips. Merlin watched it, thinking what he always did, that his mother was her loveliest when happy. Thrilled at seeing her again, he rushed, feeling her rush to him with matching delighted haste.

“Oh Merlin…” He felt the solidity of her arms wrapping around his battled taxed body. Letting out a content sigh, Merlin relaxed for a long moment. All his thoughts ceased as they hugged.

Soon enough though, he recalled the urgency of his visit. He regretfully broke away from her, bringing his hand upon his mother’s shoulder with purpose.

“What is it?” Hunith asked him with concern in her eyes, touching her son’s cheek. Then seeing the two men behind him, one ever so familiar, she questioned, “Merlin?”

Shaking his head, Merlin told her that it would take a while to explain, but that the most important part of it was Camelot was under attack. She gasped at that as he asked her, “Is Gwen here?”

Hunith faced him with confusion, making Merlin sigh. “Another story that will take some time to relate, but suffice to say she was banished by Arthur. I got to see her again and I suggested she come here.

Has…she come Mother?” He was afraid he already knew the answer, receiving it with certainty as Hunith shook her head.

“No Merlin. I haven’t seen her since the last time you all came, years ago.”

Dully Merlin nodded his head, wondering worriedly where she could be, and where was Arthur.

***

_Darkness._

That’s what his eyes opened to, an environment of inky blackness except for the crack of light that came from the opening in front of him. Barely even so, mostly it was a tiny hole of illumination. Getting a glimpse of the craggy rock on the walls and underneath him, he was certain that he was not inside any building.

Dampness soaked through his skin. He was wet, _cool and wet_. His body ached, needles of pain plaguing it, especially his chest.

And…

_He was not alone._

Someone was sleeping at his side, a small sun tinted hand spread out over his heart. That almost in itself was enough for him to know who it belonged to. The clincher was the tight ringlet of curls tickling his shoulder.

But this couldn’t be.

_How was she here? How was he here…wherever here was?_

It was crucial he figure this out as he didn’t like situations of uncertainty.

However, _his fingers_ had another strong desire. They always tempted, _her curls_ , and it had been days now since he had touched them last.

His feelings a hot mess, having her _right_ next to him, he couldn’t help but drive his fingers within her hair. It was tangled, much of its softness gone.

_It didn’t matter._

“Guinevere?” He whispered hoarsely, unable to get his voice to its usual stronger timbre.

It was too quiet, gaining him no response. His throat was dry, his vocal chords shaky, probably having to do with his injuries.

Blearily he tried to remember where he got them from in the first place, his mind slowly recalling the violent events. Morgana, Agravaine and Helios led an attack on Camelot, his uncle proving to be treacherous. Vast amounts of the Southron Army invaded. Fires blazed. Innocent people died. Lives were threatened including his and…Sarya.

_Did she make it?_

What about his knights? Gaius? Merlin?

It made him restless, having no idea where any of them were, if anyone had been captured. Question after question. He wanted to know how he got here. He wanted her to wake, talk to him. It was selfish not letting her sleep, but as he was royalty he didn’t usually wait for answers.

“Guinevere…” He tried again, but his voice still barely carried, not stirring her at all. Nor did his restlessness deplete at all. It felt wrong to be sleeping, lying down while his kingdom was being taken. It was his duty to protect his people, to fight back.

_“Guinevere.”_

He brought more force to his voice, getting it out this time in a way that touched her ears. Feeling her movements, he waited with little patience, breath fast, anxiousness filling his body.

It wasn’t some mirage or trick of his mind, _right?_ He wasn’t hallucinating…

As she started to lift her head, he let go of her tangled curls and received his answer. Even in the low light her eyes glowed like dark onyx.

“It _is_ you.” He whispered wonderingly.

Slowly Gwen nodded her head. “Yes.”

Sometime after singing to him, during the threatening sounds of pursuit, when finally his skin seemed cool enough and the bleeding had stopped, she had fallen asleep. Now with rivulets of emotion, she reached out, touching his hair, fingering to the line of his scalp. The night previous it had burned. Now it was cool, damp.

She wanted to keep her fingers there, but after all that had transpired she wasn’t certain, feeling impelled to explain her actions as she lowered her hand. “You had a fever last night. I was worried so…” The words didn’t come out that clearly. She fumbled on them uncertainly. “I did all I could to bring it down.”

Well that explained why his skin was so wet. His tongue caught in his throat. Arthur wasn’t sure how you thank the woman you sent away, that you still loved, and yet she betrayed you. So wearily he just nodded his head.

It was like regressing to their most awkward days, making Gwen slide back the short distance to bring her shoulders against the cave’s wall opposite him.

As she did, Arthur took it in with advanced observance, what he had only gotten a glimmer of before, as that crack of light shined more strongly upon her now. What she wore left little to the imagination, exposing her flat stomach, but for some transparent slap of fabric, shimmering everywhere else, all the way up to where it enhanced the commencing curve of her breasts. Sensual it was, maybe, but also plainly hideous, like nothing he’d ever seen her in, and even if _she_ could make it work in her favor, it made his teeth grit edgily to see her this way.

“What are you wearing?”

Gwen looked down at the wild attire Helios had her wear, self-consciously covering herself with the leftover tattered pieces of Arthur’s tunic. “It’s a long story.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose, his hand coming outward, as if to tell her he was more than ready to hear it.

Gwen grimaced. It was obvious he wasn’t going to relent. “After I was banished from Camelot…”

The reminder made his jaw clench. It had been his decision to banish her, better than having her executed, but still it had been no easy solution.

Not so much for her either.

“I went to live in a village far enough away from here.”

Arthur nodded and asked with a voice that was a bit more back to regularity, “Where is _here_ anyway?”

Gwen shook her head. “I’ll tell you in a moment.”

“Fine.” He stated with more curtness than intended. His emotions on edge, anger was at the finest perimeter. Maybe it had to do with seeing her like this, wearing whatever thing she was wearing. The Guinevere he knew never dressed wantonly.

For a moment he remembered painfully the kisses he witnessed and wondered if that maybe had something to do with it, but then he pushed such a stupid thought to the back of his mind. No matter what happened with her and Lancelot, she wasn’t some common har-

 _Oh_ , he would not take it there, never referring to any woman in such a crude way, let alone the woman who he still-

_Ah._

Seeing the stark lines of agitation on his face, and yet not knowing what barbed _war_ was going on in his mind, Gwen continued. “Whilst I was living in that village, it came under attack.”

Leaving his issues with her outfit, Arthur tried to sit up now, the sharp pain in his chest forcing a moan past his lips. Soon the pressure of her palm was against his shoulder as she reprimanded him with acute care.

“Don’t move. You were hurt badly last night. You need to lie still.”

Arthur fidgeted, still trying to move his body, but it was no use. Each bit of effort caused him more discomfort and caused her to frown at him with fiercer disapproval. He gave in and Gwen continued.

“Rest assured. I was not hurt. Unfortunately many of the villagers were. The attack came from Helios-

Arthur startled at that. Helios was the war hungry king who aided Morgana. She had the vicious barbaric Southron Army in her command thanks to him. “Helios is working with Morgana. He helped her take Camelot, aided further by my traitorous uncle.” Arthur hinged on the last words painfully and angrily.

Gwen just nodded her head. “I know. Helios actually liked me so he brought me to his…place of hiding and gave me these clothes.” Gwen related, gesturing to what she was wearing.

Arthur felt anger boil in him at that, burns of concern flaming. “If he-

Gwen already knew where his line of thought was going as she had wondered too when being taken if Helios’s intent was to use her for such… _indecencies_. “He didn’t. He had no time to even if he planned it. Honestly he was not cruel to me at all. Like I said, he seemed to prefer my company. He simply invited me to dinner. However, it was cut short.”

“Why?”

“He had a visitor. Morgana.”

Arthur closed his eyes for the blink of a second, feeling waves of stupidity for what he should have known and seen. It wasn’t like he was some naïve young prince just sat upon the throne. “Did she see you?”

Gwen shook her head. “No. But I heard what they spoke of, that they were planning an attack on Camelot with Agravaine’s assistance using the layouts of the castle. It was then I fled, knowing Camelot needed to be warned somehow.”

Once again he tried to sit up. As he did Gwen whispered _‘no’_ , pushing down upon Arthur’s shoulder with her palm. “You _can’t_ move.”

This time Arthur fought her, tensely lifting his hand, finding some of her curls and holding tightly to them, so much so that she winced just a bit before he loosened his hold. It was shocking to hear she knew about the planned attack before it occurred. “You could have been killed! Did they catch up with you?”

“They didn’t.” Gwen reassured, before she added another horror. “Morgana did.”

There was a time Arthur would think nothing ill of that. After all, Morgana had always treated Guinevere more as a friend than her maidservant, displaying grave concern when she was taken by Hengist, insisting that she be found.

But somewhere along the way things changed ever so darkly. Morgana had no care for _any_ of them anymore. She blamed the sins of his father on all of them. “What did she do?”

Gwen lowered her head.

That only brought up Arthur’s anxiety. Flattening his bared elbow against the cave’s ground, ignoring the prickles of pain from the jagged rock, he grimaced tightly, endeavoring to lift his upper body enough to touch. His hand shaking from the rivulets of tension, he held fast as much he could to Guinevere’s cheek. “What happened? Tell me.”

Gwen shook her head, knowing he was putting too much stress on his hurt body. She tried to push him back, but he held on. Gwen hesitated heavily. When Morgana turned her into that animal it not only hurt her. _It humiliated her._ And at the time Arthur was with that princess. She saw them joking, _enjoying each other’s company_ …

The tears that suddenly started falling down her face stunned him. He didn’t want to see her like this, holding back something so horrible she wouldn’t tell him.

 _“Guinevere…”_ He kept touching her cheek, trying to get her to look up, not caring about his discomfort as his elbow burned from the tension placed upon it. “Please.”

Shaking her head now, she whispered softly, finally showing him her eyes. “Lie down.”

Stubbornly he didn’t heed.

Her voice flooded with emotion, she caringly told him again, _“Arthur, lie back down.”_

The use of his given name did it. Not everyone always called him by it and only she stated it in such a fashion that got him to listen unwaveringly. So finally with her assistance he slowly lay back down, keeping a tight hold of her hand all the while.

Letting out a deep sigh, she recounted that day. “Morgana enchanted me so that I appeared as a wild animal, a deer.”

 _A deer?_ Arthur’s breath held sickeningly. _A deer, prey for wild animals, for hunters?_ “How could-

Gwen quietly interrupted, having a hard enough time already getting it out without him saying anything. “Then she left me in the wood for…”

_Heaven, no._

Guinevere confirmed it for him.

“You were hunting that day with a princess and-

The rest of the words faded in his mind, his heart beating too rapidly. Feeling her shaking, Arthur squeezed her hand.

_It had been her._

The deer had been Guinevere. Anguish locked his throat. He had come _so_ close to killing the woman he loved. And Morgana had set it up. If that arrow had gone through, if it had worked— _wait_.

“Mithian hit you. She was ready to claim victory, but then—I found it.”

Mithian, _that was her name_. His new--- _princess_. “Found what?” Gwen dully asked.

Arthur reached down, feeling her trying to stop him, but he gently pushed her hand away, bringing it out from the pocket of his breeches, _the lot of them_ , including the one he found in the forest that day. It was why he had to chance heading up to his chambers before he left Camelot. He couldn’t leave without his mother’s rings. Without the ring he gave _her_. “This.”

Gwen looked down at what he held in his hand , the ring of silver glimmer, tightly woven, mingled with a frayed leather cord, the one she had worn it upon after the banishment. “I thought I lost it forever.”

Arthur shook his head, finding her hand again, holding it tight within his. “You were hit.” He recounted.

She nodded. “I was. But then when I woke in the morning, Merlin was there.”

“Merlin?” Arthur asked with bewilderment.

“Yes. And he spends so much time with Gaius. He must have taken care of me in the night because I was much better after. The arrow was removed and everything.”

Arthur let out a sigh of relief, tangled into wonder. “Merlin took care of you.”

“Yes.”

“How did he know that it was you if you resembled a deer?”

Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know is when he found me, the spell must have worn off.”

“He didn’t bring you back.”

“No.” Gwen frowned. “I didn’t _want_ to go back. You banished me. I had no right to return to Camelot. I did tell Merlin about Agravaine’s plan, how he was working with Morgana and Helios behind your back. Merlin wanted me to return with him, be there to tell you what I heard, but I couldn’t do it, so he advised me to head to Ealdor, stay with his mother.”

“You didn’t go.”

Gwen shook her head. “I was afraid you didn’t believe the warning, and I was right. You didn’t.”

“Merlin warned me that they were planning something but he never said anything about you!” Arthur insisted hotly.

“I told him not to. You banished me, wanted nothing to do with me.”

That truth dragged him down now. After seeing her with Lancelot he wanted her out of his life. But-

“What happened of her?”

“Who?”

Gwen swallowed tightly. “Your princess.”

Arthur shook his head, feeling pain not from his injuries, but deep within his heart. “I don’t know. She left. I sent her away with her land she laid claim to. It was the least I could do after not giving her the commitment she desired and that I at first promised.” He looked directly into Guinevere’s eyes, wondering what depth of horror lived there. “You must have been scared.”

Gwen lowered her head, upset that he had almost married someone else after he banished her. A princess. It made her feel even dirtier, unkempt. “I was. And ashamed.”

Her voice trembled. Arthur pulled at her hand, whispered, _“Come…”_

She resisted at first so he pulled harder. “Guin-

His voice broke on her name. She felt her resolve fall apart. She let her body fall down to his chest, attentive enough to not touch upon his deepest wounds. Her cheek lay upon his stomach, where he was not injured. Her fingers clasped his damp skin, a mingling of sweat and the water she had bathed him with last night.

Arthur lifted his hand, feeling the curls of her hair coil around his fingers. They took him as their prisoner; he didn’t try to escape. Nothing really was resolved. He had a web of emotions coursing through his heart and tingles of pain in his body, but for the moment he couldn’t let her go, needed her near.

His other hand still held the leather bound ring. She touched upon it, feeling his skin reassuringly against hers as they lay together.

His eyes closed wearily. So much to say. To do. So much-

_Let it rest for the moment._

Her eyes shut too.

He whispered,

“How did I get here?”

She breathed in his scent: damp skin, of the earth, and yet still it could not take away the rich noble masculine aura that always followed him. “I brought you.”

“How?”

She stated it quietly, efficiently. “I pulled your body into this cave, hidden into the wood, where I have been staying. An answer to your earlier question of where we are. It’s just far enough away from Camelot to have allowed me to hide, close enough to keep an eye upon the kingdom. I saw a sword upon the ground, your blade I believe. I struck the man, who wanted to hurt you, with it.”

Arthur brushed his lips against her forehead, tears forming at his lids that made it too hard to speak at first.

And then,

“Guinevere-

She gently cut through. “You need to sleep Arthur.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead again.

“You sleep with me then.”

She gave no counter.

***

Will be continued in **Five** **_Enflamed by the Truth of Emotion and the Flesh_**

 **Excerpt:** _Looking up past the trees pikes, he saw it, the smoke._

_“Camelot…” he whispered._

_Sounds of movement came, horses if he wasn’t mistaken. He started to walk further, slowly. Something came down upon him, forced him to the ground. A hand pressed against his mouth, cutting off his yell._

***

Credit: The song that Gwen sang to Arthur: **_When the Nightingale Sings_** (Harley MS. 1310) // The lyrics I posted are the middle English translation, found at this wonderful site: [_**Luminarium**_](http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/medlyric/nyhtegale.php) // You can find the modern English translation there too.

Thank you for reading.


	5. Enflamed by the Truth of Emotion and the Flesh

**Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow**

**Five: _Enflamed by the Truth of Emotion and the Flesh_**

As morning started to rise over the little farm village of Ealdor, Merlin worried. There still had been no sign of the other knights and most importantly Arthur. It was possible citizens of Camelot too might be out in the woodland, unable to return home. Then there was of course Gwen, who Merlin hadn’t seen since Mithian’s arrow hit her.

_He had to do something._

Cautiously Merlin observed that his mother was still asleep upon her cot. All the villagers seemed to be slumbering, but would be up within moments, for that was how farm-life was lived, waking to the dawn.

Thus he moved fast, once out of the village, running toward the mountains.

Then finding a high peak, he called out in a voice that made the tree branches tremble with awe.

***

“Percival…”

The knight woke up rapidly. “Yes?”

Gwaine was already standing, wrapping up his bedroll and laying it over his horse’s rump. Both he and Percival had kept watch through the night, Gwaine’s round the most recent. “We should get going. Find out if Arthur made it to Ealdor.”

Giving no counter, Percival started moving around too. “I’ll wake Sarya.”

***

Hours later her head still rested upon the unwounded part of his upper body. Gently Arthur slid away, resting her head upon his torn tunic.

His body hadn’t fully ceased aching from injury, so he held to the wall for long moments, needing to regain his equilibrium. Taking deep breaths he felt it feebly returning, enough to get halfway up. It wasn’t much an issue; the cavern’s low roof didn’t allow standing.

Taking it slow, limbs shaky, he crawled to the entrance, finally seeing it, where the light was coming from. On his knees, he felt for the rough opening. Then once past it, he pushed up with his hands, slowly getting his body to finally stand.

Touching at the bandages upon his chest for a moment, and then looking away from the dried blood stains, he moved a little deeper into the wood, feet roughly sliding over the ground. Vision ascending past the trees pikes, he saw it, the smoke.

 _“Camelot…”_ he whispered.

Sounds of movement interrupted the woodland serenity, horses if he wasn’t mistaken. He started to walk further, feet still moving ever so slowly as something came down upon him. The hand firmly shut over his mouth before he could yell out protest.

***

“Well young warlock, what is it _this_ time?”

Merlin grimaced. Kilgharrah, without a doubt, had a wry sense of humor, a riddling dragon who liked to act as if he was the wisest of everything. He certainly knew a lot more about what was to come than Merlin did, or at least _boasted_ that he knew. But Merlin could do without his joking right now. He was fraught with emotion, his deep breath displaying it fervently.

Kilgharrah’s expression changed slightly. “Something seems to be troubling you young warlock.”

Merlin nodded his head. “Morgana attacked Camelot.”

The dragon’s head piqued at that, a snarl forming at his mouth. “Ah, the witch.”

Merlin went on. “Yes. We had to flee in the night, the servants, the laborers, the nobles, everyone. The knights knew we were coming to Ealdor. But the people of Camelot did not. I need you to try to find them. Get them here.”

The dragon seemed to almost roll his eyes with annoyance. “And how do you propose I do that young Warlock? Obviously I could do _THIS_.”

Merlin watched with wild bewilderment as Kilgharrah turned, so at least he wasn’t facing him, and blew out from his mouth a huge volley of fire that charcoaled the underside of their canopy. When it was done Merlin shook his head. “Right, and roast some, while scaring the ones that actually survive so they flee wildly. I don’t think that’s going to help Kilgharrah.”

The dragon gave a low chuckle, quite the jokester. “Probably not.”

Merlin faced him strongly. “This is _not_ funny.”

The dragon relented. “Alas it is not and yet I warned you young warlock. To let the witch go…”

Merlin gave a face that showed he didn’t want to hear any kind of recriminations now.

Tapping his feet into the ground, which was the equivalent of boulders slamming into the earth, Kilgharrah sobered finally. “Alright. There is a way young warlock using some of the _oldest_ magic. No one will be harmed and they will come to Ealdor without the realization it was because of a dragon.”

Merlin sighed relief at that, but then, “I need you do to more. I’m afraid Arthur may have been taken or is injured. Gwen also is missing.”

The dragon shrugged. “The king is important. He will unite Albion. As for your friend she doesn’t matter to me.”

Merlin raged, pointing so harshly at the dragon, speaking in his guttural voice that it shrunk away from him. “But she matters to ME! And she should to you too for she is going to be the Queen of Camelot. I know it. Even if he banished her, Arthur wanted to marry her before and I know he still does. So make sure she matters to _YOU_.”

The dragon gave in at that, more humbled now, but mostly seeing the importance of the person Merlin was speaking of. “This is the one who broke the love spell then? The young king’s true love?” As Merlin nodded the dragon went on. “Well then, she must be found for she is destined to be part of Albion’s unification. The young king will rely upon her wise council heavily.”

Merlin cared about more than that, but he was used to the dragon not taking much interest in individual lives. The dragon looked instead more at means to ends. “He already does. Gwen can’t be lost in this. She needs to return to Camelot with the rest of us.”

The dragon concurred, but now made a crucial point. “Arthur Pendragon was born with magic.”

Merlin nodded with a slight frown. “Right. Uther asked Nimueh to give Ygraine a son.”

The dragon snarled at the second witch’s name. “Yes young warlock. And so even if that magic is latent within your king, it is still _there_ , albeit impotent. Nevertheless, the old magic I will use with the citizens of Camelot will not work with him. He will see me as the dragon.”

That surprised Merlin. Although maybe it had to do with the rareness of Arthur’s birth. Even if he couldn’t use magic, it possibly still _affected_ him?

“Okay, never would have thought that. Can you at least find him? Tell if he is alright?”

The dragon seemed to almost give a shrug. “Perhaps. If at a distance. Perhaps not though. I cannot tell you for certain young warlock until I catch sight of him.”

Merlin sighed heavily. Kilgharrah’s answer wasn’t helpful.

The dragon started to lift one of his wings to appease, before he brought it back down again gently. Even if the dragon sometimes did not want to care about the young warlock, _he did_. They were both too much of the old magic, dragonlord and dragon destined to be unified. “I will do my best young warlock.”

Merlin looked up, smiled just a fraction. Arthur had been his responsibility, his destiny and he left him anyway. It was to protect Gaius of course and that mattered much to him, but he needed to know that his king had fared well and that his other dear friend was safe too. “That’s all I can ask.”

The dragon gave a nod and then with a furious flurry of the earth rose up into the sky, disappearing from sight within seconds as he drifted and glided beyond the clouds. Merlin watched until that last speck of brightness was gone, and then hurried back to Ealdor before the villagers would wake.

***

Struggling to get away, senses on the highest alert now, and angry he hadn’t even anticipated the danger strongly enough, Arthur felt himself being pushed to the ground, a force not yielding. He kept attempting his escape until the whisper came.

_“Arthur, stop fighting me. Don’t you realize? They are looking for you.”_

Guinevere. Her bout of strength now stunned him, but he knew his body was too taxed, muscles like liquid from the fever of last night, breath coming out in hard gasps. He had no choice but to heed. Giving a deep sigh, he let her pull him back into the cave.

Once sitting upon its rough ground again though, he complained robustly.

“I have to go back to Camelot. That’s my land she took. It’s my kingdom.”

It was boiling inside him, eating him alive, that he fled from his kingdom and now who knew what Morgana was doing with it? He saw how many citizens had been murdered. Sir Paul paid the price and countless others. Morgana’s sense it seemed was gone; all she thirsted for was revenge and takeover. He was king. It was his duty to protect his subjects and yet here he was hiding in a cave. It felt _WRONG_.

Gwen shook her head at his wild ranting, trying to get Arthur to lie down again, but he protested against it vehemently so she settled for him leaning against the cavern’s wall as she leaned against the other side.

“You can’t go back there alone. They’ll kill you. I could hear them hunting for you last night and obviously they still are. You’re as much their prey as I was when Morgana enchanted me to appear as a deer. You’re too weak anyway to put up any sort of fight.”

Arthur hit the ground fiercely, ignoring the shards of pain that blasted through his fist as he did so. “I can’t stay here Guinevere! I don’t even know what happened to my knights!”

She shook her head, keeping as calm as possible as he completely lost his composure. It wouldn’t be the first time. He grabbed her in the throne room, yes a momentary weakness, but nonetheless a piece of who he was. “Hurting yourself won’t help with not knowing the location of your knights.”

Arthur hit the back of his head against the cavern wall. It hurt some, but he ignored the discomfort, closing his eyes tightly.

Gwen slid away from the wall, bringing her hands up to his bandaged chest. She checked each wound. Stains of dried blood lined parts of the shimmery material. None of the blood was fresh, but the bindings were loosening. Gwen started to tighten them as a hand fisted over hers. Lifting her eyes, she saw his blue ones intensely watching her.

His voice was dry and coarse. Inside the cave, having to yield to her medical tending, Arthur was feeling no more like a king, _but a refugee_. “Those savages that Morgana brought to Camelot, they got Sir Paul.”

Gwen grimaced with emotion at that. “Oh no. Sarya?”

Arthur shook his head miserably. “I don’t know Guinevere. Her parents were alive when I left. Don’t you see, that’s the only reason why I departed Camelot.” He had to say that, confirm it for himself, because it made his skin crawl with shame to be here, sitting, being cared for, as his kingdom still burned with smoke and left over flame. “They were chasing her and so I decided to be their bait.”

She touched his chest. “You don’t even have any armor on.””

Arthur shook his head. “They would identify me too easily. I had to get Sarya’s parents to safety. I hope I did. Morgana and Agravaine gave the orders to kill a few of the citizens. Get them to _heed_ her.”

Gwen grimaced with anguish. She didn’t get it. What Morgana did to her, what she would do to Camelot, to her brother, why was she so cold inside now? “And Merlin?”

Arthur focused on the cavern’s ceiling, _so dark_ , making him feel angrily claustrophobic. He didn’t like being in such a confined place for so long, not while his kingdom was in peril. “I sent him with Gaius and Leon. Gaius is too old. He’d never survive Morgana’s wrath.”

Gwen nodded, pressing her palm against Arthur’s bared bandaged chest. She held still, feeling some peace from his body’s warmth.

But Arthur still had none. He opened his eyes, gaze fervent. That outfit she wore, it audaciously exposed her flat stomach. “What do you eat here?”

She touched his shoulder.

Arthur tightly grabbed her wrist. “Answer me. What do you eat?”

Gwen didn’t struggle against his grip. Never in her life would she fear Arthur. Even in the throne room he hadn’t scared her. It had just been startling to be on the receiving end of his wrath, because it was the first time he had yelled so fiercely at her. “I’ve had a few berries and things like that.”

Arthur shook his head, not at all satisfied. “I’ll go get something.”

He started to lift up to his feet, getting her to push her palm against his shoulder. “You’re still hurt. And they’re looking. With it daylight it may be too easy for you to be captured.”

Arthur grunted furiously, heart viciously focusing on that awful night, the one that thrust a poisoned arrow into it. He had screamed when he saw them together, getting Lancelot’s attention. And then when he de-armed Lancelot of his sword she thrust through, crying out for it all to stop. She did it right when Lancelot no longer had a weapon to defend himself.

His anger fused more. He took it out on the outfit, giving it another snarling look of disgust. “I hate what you’re wearing.”

Gwen turned away. His skin was turning red with emotion and that would do no good for his body’s recovery so she let him have the last insulting word, not responding.

_“Why?”_

Gwen’s eyebrows rose with question.

“Why did you kiss him when he came back?”

It was like the blade of his sword cutting through her, bringing it back. She had asked herself that so many times the question was drilled into her head. Never did an answer come.

That night in the cells, after thrusting the bracelet away, she tried to find it. She pulled at her hair for it until it fell out of all its perfect bindings. She cried through the night for it, but it _never_ came. It was like some vicious tentacle gripped her heart and tore it away from the man she loved. It caught hold of her limbs and pulled her the other way, making lust and physical desire all that mattered.

And yet it wasn’t true, because fervently she _desired_ Arthur. Dreamed enough of what it would be like to be invited to his bed, to share it with him. So deeply she yearned to feel what it would be like when they shed their clothes and come together, to feel his hands touch her in the most intimate way.

“Are you thinking of him?”

_How could he think such a thing? When her emotions were now so vulnerably upon the man she loved? Open and yet he slammed the door on any depth of feeling. Bastard. It was such an undignified way to name him, but he was being undignified too. The wild wood was discharging every vicious thought._

“Stop it! I know I hurt you. I have told you over and over I never meant to. I didn’t want to kiss him.”

Arthur sneered. “Then why did you? Because you certainly didn’t look like you were _suffering_.”

Gwen countered sharply. “Neither did _you_ when you were laughing with the Princess Mithian.” It was maybe too much to say, but it hurt horribly to see them together so soon after he banished her. “I know you almost married her. Yes?”

Gritting his teeth, Arthur spit out, “I never wanted another for years. You know that. You on the other hand-

She pressed her palm against her heart. “I made a mistake.” It was weak, but she still had no good counter. That night, it was like something took over her body, controlled it.

“So did I. Asking for your hand.”

She turned her face away at that, eyes closing with anguish.

A part of him felt sorry. The other part wanted to start the war. He couldn’t fight the _real_ one in Camelot, so inflict this one. But he should have known, there’d be no victor. Even if he still ached for her, it was almost easier to just push away that feeling, to reject her pain.

It had always been there, he now finally realized. Lancelot was so noble and good. Arthur truly enjoyed having him as a knight.

_As long as he kept his distance from Guinevere._

He mourned his death the first time. Truly he did. But even before then he couldn’t help it. There was always a prod of tension when he saw Lancelot with his Guinevere. He often stood closer to her in those moments, reached a hand out for her waist that couldn’t be seen. And he delighted when she’d move closer to him too, freely.

“You always wanted him.”

Gwen lowered her head, before lifting it up again, tears almost as heavy as the night she was put in the dungeons. She knew her hair was just as ragged as it had been then, that she probably looked terrible, but what she _felt_ was worse.

_“You didn’t want me.”_

Arthur stared, that response a shocking one.

She went on to make the point that he never fully enough saw, that if he wanted to inflict pain, she would finally force him to see. “You said at first we couldn’t be together because of your father.” She lifted her hands, holding them together against her heart.

“I _waited_ for you for so long. I kept myself just for you. I did it knowing that to be with you, could cause me peril. Could thrust me away from my life and home. Because your father would never allow it and I couldn’t ask you to betray him. _And before._ Years before you even looked my direction, years before you showed humility, I saw you. I cared about you. And you didn’t turn back to me. So yes, when Lancelot first came, when you had yet to even notice I was standing there in the throne room, being passed by you in the hallway with not so much as a glance, it felt _good_ to be desired. I enjoyed his appreciation of me. And then you kissed me in my home and…”

She was holding herself, arms wrapped around her chest. Arthur watched, pained, and still needing to inflict it, because it ached, because what she said was shamefully _true_.

He desired princesses then, pretty little princesses. He couldn’t see his way to a servant girl. But then little things happened. Oh make it no mistake, he always saw Guinevere as a good kind person. But after he saw her strength in Ealdor, after the questing beast bit him and he had that foggy memory of her tending to him, he stopped desiring pretty little princesses. He wanted the elusive handmaiden, the caring brave one who knocked him down when that gargoyle thing nearly killed him.

He felt with that first kiss his whole heart turn upside down. Her lips were so perfectly positioned between dry and wet heat. The touch of her hands was warmly giving as she presented her token. Her eyes when he moved away, were so intently gazing up into his.

He just fell in love with her, no warning, no perfect princess melody. And so every time he saw her with Lancelot it _bothered_ him.

Those kisses, those blasted kisses that awful night, how she touched him then, it was burned into his memory. Every time he tried to flush it out, he couldn’t. It was sunk within. And so as much he still frustratingly loved her, there was so much hot anger there too.

“I kissed you in your home and what?” He dryly asked, needing release, but not knowing where to get it from.

She shook her head, giving answer simply, with quiet, but determined veracity. “And I knew it was you I loved. But you said it couldn’t be because of your father. So I accepted it. I told you later that I couldn’t be your queen.”

“You can’t be. You won’t be.” He stated coldly now.

She turned away from him, wanting no more of this fight, of his rash words meant to slice her heart to pieces.

He cursed the satisfaction he got at seeing all her tears. Cursed how simultaneously they made his heart burn into hell. And cursed what he now said. “He’s dead.”

Gwen turned back to him, questioningly. “What?”

Arthur thought he would smile with victory, but it flattened to the deepest hollow. “Lancelot. He took his own life that night. He’s gone.”

She sobbed, not for any misplaced love, but for the pain of a person dying. She knew Arthur just wanted to hurt her, but the past weeks had been too much. Turning into a frightened deer, fending for any bit of life, had been too much. Being thrust away from her home by the man who once promised it to be hers forever…inflicted _too_ much.

“Miss him so?” Arthur asked, screaming at his mouth to shut up. She was feeling enough. Hurting enough. _As much as she hurt him?_ Fie those sick kisses, that way her body turned to be one with-

Gwen shrunk away, wanting to be apart from him, left alone to her own pain.

Surging with heat of anger, of desire, of pain, of need, Arthur shackled her wrist with his exigent fingers. She protested, but with his other hand he locked in her waist, brought her body flush against his. So hot, he felt, quaking with a man’s untamed yearnings. This wasn’t any gentle embrace. It was a fevered one. He gripped her curls, pushed his fingers through them.

 _His_ , he wanted to demand. She was his and he wanted to press that upon her so forcefully now that she never doubted it again. That she never even thought to go to another. She was his…he wanted her breasts, her thighs, her curve of body, her heart… _oh he so badly wanted her heart_. Needed it to fit somewhere deep inside his so it would never run free again. There was no valor in these feelings, no knightly chivalry, no conduct exuded by a king, but he was nonesuch here. Just a man who was finally again with the one person who made his heart undulate with emotion. A man who wanted to take her lips and make them burn with the fever not even his injuries could have produced.

And as for her, _she didn’t want to be released_. She was far from some humbly dignified handmaiden here, instead a woman who had been ravaged by the wilds of the wood. Dressed in gaudy attire, she felt no sense of propriety. So her body excited at his unleashed touch. Even though her mind warned it was his anger making him act like this, her brutally bruised heart didn’t care. It wanted to stop being enclosed in a desert of loneliness. Her breasts bounced with fervent splendor as they felt the rock of his chest. Her thighs shocked with delight at the feel of his warm skin washing over them. The contact, so poignant, so piercing, oh she just wanted it to go on, hissing at her more diligent mind to shut its mouth.

Her breasts, they kept rising and falling, in that outfit that barely bound them. They teased his chest, bringing out his guttural groan. And that shimmery material hardly contained the womanly thick warmth of her thighs, bringing him into their gate of lusciousness. He barely looked at her, just feeling, mouth somehow coming to where hers waited with little patience, her breath fast, her heart thumping so hard. Like he was swelling with it.

She had hints of it before when they would kiss in Camelot, but he was always gentle, always proper. Now that throbbing hardness pushed against her one of her legs, warning that he was far from kindness. She didn’t care. She burned for it in fact, him, pulsing and filling just for her. Desiring her that greatly that he couldn’t even contain himself. She wanted that now. _Him wild_. Beautifully unrestrained.

His lips pressed. They pulled at hers, hissing, snarling. _Want me. Come apart for me._ His tongue pushed in, not seeking any permission of entrance, just demanding that she open. But it wasn’t alone. Her fingers grasped hard to his shoulders, pressing, pulling.

All the gentle kisses of Camelot were forgotten. They ripped apart under his now bruising lips. She knew it would hurt, but she never realized the ache could feel so exciting, so thrilling. Every time his lips burned hers, made her gasp with fevered want. She pushed in tighter against his body, felt her hips rock, felt his fingers squeeze, pulse into her in calescent reaction. _Oh, to drive into him_ , she was flaming, her body filling with wet friction filled heat.

Arthur hissed in pain and pleasure. _Craving. Thirsting._ Always he chivalrously held back. _But not now_. Here, beyond kingdom and rule, his only thought was her, telling any order of his mind to back off. His heart wanted this so badly, his body was thrusting to be within. The kisses were barely enough. He grasped her hair, pulled apart her tangled curls, hearing her cries of desire, feeling her fluctuating against him, tensing for him to give more. He needed to find release. It was a necessity. His mouth was messy against hers, uncoordinated. Eating her alive.

She didn’t care. She answered him in return, thighs pressing against him even more, she didn’t know how much more she could stand. It hurt so much. It felt so rapturous. _It was the sweetest kind of pain._ Her mouth couldn’t get enough of his. It needed more fulfillment. His hardness pressing against her, reminding that it too wanted some pleasure. To that she felt little fear. Just raw excitement for soon enough the kisses would no longer suffice. _Soon enough…_

He wanted her surrender, but now she was fighting alongside him instead. Challenging him. Pushing him to feel more. It inflicted the deepest agony, made him hold her without little care for gentleness. He pressed his fingers so hard against her flesh, he could start feeling the imprint. Their mouths didn’t kiss at all, instead _dueled for supremacy_. She was the only thing within his periphery. Like the arrow aimed for its target his lips, his body aimed to contain her. He wanted to take her breath and make it one with his. He wanted to take away any temptation. _Just want me_ , his heart begged. _Love me and only me, Guinevere_. That’s what his mouth begged through its hot wet kisses. _Desire just me_.

Her fingers slid lower by their own spontaneous accord. She accidentally gripped where one of his wounds lay, so fevered into their passions that her heart forgot his injuries. But her mind remembered.

And now shockingly his brain told his body to also, making his mouth tear away from hers as he howled out from the pain. It took over the desire, the stress of his wound being inflicted with raw pricks.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She whispered wretchedly, extricating her thighs, and feeling him bodily moving away also now.

It was like they had been under some spell of hot desire. At least that was how he let himself off for allowing things to go so far, for taking advantage of so much, and giving in to what his mind kept warning him about.

Oh blessed life’s cruelties. All her curls were wet upon her face. They had driven up the sweat and glistening of love waiting to be made. But it couldn’t go on. So many kisses that bordered on sucking in life, _but too much_. His body was pulsing too hard and even if the pain from when she touched his injury was fading away, and the swelling hardness that had been building within him was tempering, his heart was fever filled. It was screaming at him to be with her again.

But his mind reprimanded that he couldn-

 _Oh_ , it hurt so much. To leave her. To be with her.

_Couldn’t._

He gestured outside, pointing down again at her flat stomach with a grimace, trying to ignore the shaking of his fingers. God, he missed her already, but he couldn’t do this. It would hurt too much when he wasn’t enough. He needed to get away. “I’m going to get us some food.”

Gwen wanted so fervently to pull him back to her, to get him to at least to talk to her, to check to make sure that he was alright. A tear welling behind one of her eyes, she asked with shivers thrusting through her voice, “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Oh the most volatile question. The remorse in her face. He shook his head slowly. “ _No_.” Pointed to his wound. “It’s alright. I just…I…”

She nodded too. Knowing little else what to do. So tied up between remorse and unsatisfied passion and swells of pain.

He couldn’t stand looking at her face anymore, couldn’t stand being in this cavern anymore alone with her when everything was so charged, so dangerously explosive.

“I have to go. We need something to eat.” He peered outside the cave, seeing the light fading. “It’s later now. So don’t come after me.”

Then he was gone.

Her hand pressed so hard against her heart, it left its imprint. She let out a shudder of unhappiness, of unbridled emotion, and then the pain so flushed, the tears no longer able to be pressed back, she curled her hands around her hot upper body, still burning from unreleased desire and rejection. Then unable to remain upright, she crumpled to the cave’s floor, sobs and salting moisture expunged.

***

Helping his mother tend to the land, too impatient to stand still really, Merlin turned around as he heard the beat of horse’s hooves. Shielding his eyes from the sun with the palm of his hand, his eyes widened as the horses and riders came closer into view.

Dropping his hoe, he ran forward. Two men. One young girl.

“Gwaine, Percival! Sarya?”

They all got down from their mounts, telling Merlin about the journey through the forest, and relaying the story about finding Sarya, how their king had helped her escape.

“Gaius?”

Merlin pointed to the gathering of houses at Percival’s concerned question. “He’s acting as physician to the people of Ealdor, since most rarely get to see one. He’s fine.”

“That’s good.” Gwaine stated with feeling. Leon joined them as Hunith took Sarya inside so she could feed her. The knights and Merlin talked about what their next move should be. Everyone was itching to find Arthur, get him to Gaius so he could tend to his injuries.

There was another side to Merlin’s feelings about it though. It was possible Kilgharrah would find Arthur and Gwen. It was also possible he wouldn’t, which could lead to capture, even death. They _had_ to search. The knights were practically jumping out of their boots. Trying to stop them would raise suspicion. Merlin wanted to go with them, but he needed to see what Kilgharrah found.

Gwaine had suffered a small wound during the fight in the castle that only now he had the time to concentrate on. Even though he huffed about it, better for him to get a little rest at least. He could also safeguard Ealdor. Leon and Percival would return to the woods to search for their missing sovereign.

It seemed the best plan at the moment, and would be put into action after Percival got himself a bite to eat.

Merlin delayed going inside, looking up to the skies instead, hoping Kilgharrah found both his missing friends.

***

Arthur returned to the darkened cavern with a wild rabbit bladed by his sword to find Gwen lying on her side, asleep on the cave floor.

Although he still hated being away from his kingdom, getting to hunt for their food had calmed him down some. Given time to cool his temper, he felt a bit ashamed for how he had acted before, almost taking advantage of a vulnerable situation.

Lowering his load he grimaced with discontent as he noticed it more closely. The bottom of the cave was jagged. No doubt it was cutting into her arms. Out in the wood he had found some fern leaves, soft enough to be a crude mattress. Lifting her body carefully, he slid them underneath.

She didn’t wake. Arthur wasn’t surprised. Living in this cavern she probably barely ever slept. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, skin blotchy from dried tears. Weeks ago he would have cradled her into his arms, wiped every tear away from her face with his fingers. But now he just gently moved away the damp curls from her brow, whispered against her face, “I’m sorry too.”

_For he was._

No matter how angry he felt, no matter that he banished her for all the reasons he first stated, he hated that she was living in this cavern. He hated that he grabbed her arm in the throne room. He hated that he couldn’t just protect her, hold her, and love her without blinding…

_Fear._

***

Gaius had bandaged Gwaine’s shoulder earlier and now was checking to see that everything was healing well within Hunith and Merlin’s tiny home. Seeing that it was, he sat back for a moment. “Wound is barely a scrape. Should be a distant memory in a day or two.”

Gwaine quietly thanked Gaius, keeping his energy in check. It was hard to not be searching with Leon and Percival for the king, but it was also a necessary effort that Ealdor stay protected. Just now that the battle was in full effect, he thought of another as he pulled his tunic back over his shoulder. “Gaius what do you think happened to Gwen? Do you think she’s alright?”

Gaius’s left eyebrow came up for a moment sharply. In Camelot Arthur had not tolerated conversation about her. Now though that Camelot was under siege and the king was not even within the vicinity, it seemed the rules were somewhat changed. And even if they weren’t, Gaius too had been wondering. “I’m not sure Gwaine.” He put away the vial that had been packed into an emergency case he kept at the door of his quarters back in Camelot, intended for a situation like this one. It held essential treatments for the gravest of injuries and a few routine ones, like Gwaine’s.

With concern Gwaine faced Gaius. “It’s said that Helios and his army have been active throughout many of the small villages, pillaging and plundering regularly.”

Gaius’s expression was grave. “Yes, I have heard that too.”

“So do you think it’s possible he invaded the one you sent Gwen to?”

To that question Gaius shook his head. “I can’t say for certain. Let’s just hope for the best.”

To both the answer wasn’t very satisfying, but that matter would have to hold. They both lifted their heads, turning to the door of the house. There was commotion coming from outside.

Gwaine grabbed his sword, ready to wield it against the enemy, but on the other side were not foes. They were instead dirtied, tired, even injured, but most importantly alive, _citizens of Camelot_. Gaius and Gwaine rushed to greet them with Merlin and the other villagers.

***

Gwen woke up to a fiery smell and something soft under her body. She lifted onto her elbows, seeing that he was struggling with moving the rabbit away as it was burning on one side quite strongly. She couldn’t help but smile a little. Arthur never was that good with fires.

Pushing up onto her knees, she scooted his hands away. Then moving her hands half into the fire, not really afraid of it because she was a blacksmith’s daughter and had been around the flame since she was a little girl, she pulled it out. However when a spark managed to catch her arm, her mouth elicited a pained yelp.

Arthur was impressed with what little fear she showed. But then as that spark caught her, he pulled her back, gently grasping her arm. “Did it get you?” He asked stupidly.

She grimaced tightly, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt much. Arthur looked down at his ripped tunic on the cave floor. He ripped it some more, bringing it over her arm. Blowing just a little on it, he looked up to see her eyes watering slightly. “Alright?”

It was almost too much, his sudden care for her. She just nodded her head.

Arthur finished wrapping the piece of material around her arm, feeling relief that she hadn’t hurt herself more, emotions already tangled enough as it was to have to worry strongly about her.

Gwen leaned into his shoulder for a few seconds, not feeling him push her away, but then resisting, she pulled apart from him. _It was too hard._ She couldn’t take it if he rejected her. She looked down at his half burned rabbit. He did too.

“Pitiful.” He whispered.

It was the breaker. He started to laugh. Feeling a smile edging at the corners of her mouth, she did too.

“Indeed pitiful.”

They giggled wildly together, the crazed kind of laughter that was so spontaneous it made your insides hurt. But it was such a needed release.

When they were done panting from the burst of insane hilarity, she found her knife, cut away the burned edges and started to lay down the good parts for him on one of the leaves he found outside. It was the perfect plate and probably cleaner than any of their ragged clothes. She pushed it his way, all of it, which brought on Arthur’s protest.

“No.” He lay half of it on another leaf, moving it back to her. “Go on.” He gestured with meaning.

She slowly began to eat too, thinking how it was good. He spiced it with some kind of herb he must have found in the wood.

They continued to eat together, Gwen inquiring, “You did not see Morgana or Helios’s men out there?”

Chewing on a piece of the rabbit and swallowing it down, Arthur gave a negative. “No. They must have been taking a breather. Didn’t catch much of any noises, except coming from overheard for just a moment or two.”

“What was it? A bird?”

Arthur shook his head. “Don’t think so. Sounded larger than that, but I saw nothing in the sky. It was strange.”

Gwen’s face showed concern so without thinking of it much, just responding to the emotion in her face, he brushed his fingers against her cheek.

 _“It’s alright.”_ He whispered and after she gave a slight nod of her head, untrusting of her voice, he lowered his hand.

The rest of the meal they ate in silence.

***

Ealdor, usually quiet at night but for the nocturnal critters, was a flurry of activity now with all the Camelot residents filling it. As they would do in their own kingdom, most rose to the direness of the matter, those strong enough helping the villagers prepare food and finding places of rest for the injured.

People of two separate kingdoms now worked together in harmony. The additional knights and guardsmen found, kept careful guard at the perimeters, just in case Morgana, Agravaine and Helios tried to ambush.

Merlin mused there was a good chance they would, especially since Morgana had been to Ealdor before and knew it was mostly sheltered by the woods. Few would think to go there, but Morgana knew its significance. That and other important reasons were why Merlin now rushed up to the mountains, once able to get away. They needed to meet again.

Raising his head, once out of sight, Merlin didn’t have to wait long. It was like the dragon had been waiting for _him_. He circled the sky only once, coming down for a landing that bent back the humbled tree trunks and created a windstorm within the tall grasses. Nevertheless Merlin held his ground. Even with the dragon having awesome power, he had never feared him.

“You kept your word old friend. Did well. Thank you.”

Kilgharrah bowed his head slightly. “The old magic worked to bring them here as I thought it would.”

Merlin nodded, asking with hope, “And Arthur, Gwen?”

The dragon tapped his foot, creating a disturbance of the earth, yet Merlin had no problem still holding his ground. “I did see the young king. He did not notice me. I disappeared into the sky too fast for him. I think he may have heard though. He seemed to be moving slower, but moving nonetheless. As for the woman, I saw no sign of her. I am sorry young warlock, but I cannot assure of her wellbeing.”

Merlin had hoped against reason that possibly they’d been reunited. Now…he wasn’t so sure.

“Well…thank you for checking anyway Kilgharrah.” He stated quietly, before returning to the finding of Arthur. “So where did you see him?”

The dragon gave answer, surprising Merlin that his place of hiding was not so far from Camelot.

***

As the hour grew late, it became clear this night would be a chilled one. Gwen lay down upon the ferns, curling tight, asking him with curiosity as he lay across from her, back turned. “Did you get these? The ferns?”

Arthur nodded his head, staring at the wall of the cavern, not yet ready to sleep, but coiled up too tightly, probably as cold as her. “Yes. You’d skin your arms sleeping without protection another night on this cavern floor.”

Gwen smiled mildly. “Thank you Arthur.”

He said nothing for a long while, and then, “You’re welcome. Goodnight Guinevere.”

Tears irritated her eyes at his tender expression. She whispered back to him, “Goodnight Arthur. Sleep well my Lord.” Belatedly she realized he wasn’t even that anymore, not after he banished her from the kingdom.

He didn’t seem to care, just grimaced, shivering. “Can’t. I’m freezing.”

She nodded, shaking. “The same.”

Arthur grunted at that. _This was ridiculous._ What was left of his shirt was too riddled with holes to warm him enough and her outfit Helios had her wear was next to nothing for warmth. Sure the fire was burning, but it wasn’t enough either. Shuffling over, he lay down next to her, grasping tightly at her waist.

Gwen shivered at the rush of warmth, thinking how odd, but sweet the contradiction.

Arthur pulled her tightly against him, giving his lame and yet true enough excuse. “It’s too cold.”

Her back pressed against the natural heat of his chest, she smiled just a bit. “Agreed.”

His hand lifted, meaning to touch her shoulder, but in the dark, the fire not light enough, he found her face instead. He shocked at the feel of fresh wetness. “ _So_ many tears…” He whispered with discontent.

His hand there, new ones came. She whimpered only, not able to say much more.

Arthur sighed, finally wiping them away now that his fingers were so handily there. “No more, alright Guinevere.”

She said nothing, too wracked with emotion to talk. Arthur lifted it up between their fingers, the ring on the piece of leather. She grasped it, feeling the warmth of his hand touching hers. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

Arthur closed his eyes, feeling patches of growing solace filling the hollow holes of infliction. He didn’t fear being with her as much. In fact he found himself focused on something else. There was still a tangled web of emotions swirling through him, but one thing he knew for certain. Pained, angered, _it didn’t matter_. He simply didn’t want to see her hurt anymore.

“I know. Hush up about it now.”

In any other world his words would be harsh, but they were whispered tenderly against her cheek and so she just sighed. It felt _so good_ just to have him close-by. It tore away their separation of the past weeks.

She closed her eyes, finally at some semblance of peace.

And as she did, Arthur felt his own fresh tears singe his flesh.

***

Continued/concluded in **Six** **_Enter the Fierce Unknown Together_**

 **Excerpt:** _Gwen screamed, biting the hand that was trying to lift her up to her feet. The man howled in pain and she moved away, concentrating on the one Arthur was fighting, seeing the man she loved doubled over in pain. Getting his fallen sword from the ground, she thrust it at the offending man, the blade cutting into his stomach. He fell over and she heaved a sigh. But the other man was still behind her, getting away from the branch she had thrown at him. Holding his sword out, he got ready to slash her throat._

***

Thank you for kindly reading.


	6. Enter The Fierce Unknown Together

**Title:** Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow  


***

**_Part VI: Enter The Fierce Unknown Together_**

From the start they shared a special kind of camaraderie. Now Merlin hoped that would prove helpful. “Gwaine.”

The often amused and _hungry_ knight, not thinking of himself at all now, faced the servant with tight interest as he walked through the makeshift triage for the wounded. “Merlin. Where’ve you been?”

Merlin decided to go full throttle, telling Gwaine what he _knew_ about Arthur’s location in a mad rush. Once done, he was met by the knight’s puzzled look.

“And _how_ exactly do you know that he’s so close to Camelot?”

Merlin’s fingers fiddled nervously with his scarf, before he dropped his hands. “I didn’t say I know for sure. Just, it makes sense, right? It’s doubtful Arthur would go that far away from Camelot whilst it was under attack.”

“But Merlin, if he was captured-

Gwaine stopped talking, as the servant’s expression seemed to make certain he _wasn’t_ captured. “Merlin?”

“Gwaine, something tells me that fortunately he hasn’t been. But the longer he is out there alone, better the chance he will be. That’s why we have to do something fast.”

Merlin’s insistence was a bit perplexing, but Gwaine had considered him a good mate from their first meet, and the scrawny servant had gotten himself out of scrapes that a man bigger than him wouldn’t have survived. “Alright. What are you proposing we do?”

“There are enough knights and guardsmen now to watch over Ealdor. If we travel through the forest, heading toward the borders of Camelot, we can find Arthur, even locate Leon and Percival on the way if they haven’t spotted him yet. I feel it Gwaine. He’s there.”

Stepping forward, Gwaine put his hand on Merlin’s bony shoulder, looking him curiously in the eye. “Something about you Merlin. Arthur’s said it enough. You’re a good mate. We can leave at sunup.”

Gwaine walked away and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. There was just one more thing he needed to do.

***

Morning drifted in slowly and as it did, Gwen heard a slight drone of familiar sound. He was lying a bit of distance from her now, quietly humming a song, blue eyes gradually opening.

“Arthur?”

“You sang that to me when I was feverish, didn’t you? I don’t know the words, but I remember the tune.”

She nodded her head, looking down at the ring on the leather hold that had been left within her hands after they fell asleep. She brought it out to him. “Here.”

Arthur slowly shook his head. “No. You kept it well so…”

“I lost it.”

He grimaced at that. _Great_ , she had to bring that up. Couldn’t she see he was trying to be nice and tender and all that? “Fine.”

He took it from her, resting his elbow on some of the fern leaves. “Now the song…”

Gwen rolled over the memory in her heart, feeling a little less whole without the ring, but she didn’t think she had the right to ask for it back. “My mother used to sing it to me.”

Okay. That made it sentimental, but there was something more. “Yes, but before last night even, I know I’ve heard that song _before_ , somewhere. It’s strange because I didn’t realize until I was feverish. So was it delirium, or…”

She recalled what Gaius said, wondering if it would be too foolish to relate, but it was the truth so…

“My mother once took care of you when you were just a babe. A little after I was born.”

Surprise filled Arthur’s eyes. “She did? But Ingrid-

Gwen quietly cut him off, sitting up now as he did too. “Yes, I know. She was the one who _regularly_ took care of you. But one week she couldn’t and so my mother assumed her place. She used to sing that song to me and Elyan so I’m sure she sang it to you too.”

The story filled Arthur with wonder. “Who told you this? You can’t remember it all. We were too young. Was it your father?”

Gwen clutched her heart for a moment. That loss was still at the surface. She shook her head. “No. Gaius.”

It made sense. Gaius was within Camelot while Gwen’s mother was alive and he certainly knew Ingrid well enough. Just, this was the first mention. “No one told me.”

Gwen shrugged. “Your father probably didn’t even remember. It was just one week, my mother simply a servant. It wouldn’t have mattered to him, or anyone else.”

Arthur frowned, not liking that answer, so instead focusing on the present situation. “I can’t return to Camelot. You’re right about that. Not yet anyway. But I need to go to Ealdor. That’s where they were all meeting up. Come on.” He gestured for Guinevere to move with him, but she stayed down upon the cavern floor.

“Come on Guinevere, we’re leaving.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go with you.”

Arthur stared at her like she was crazed. Yes, there was still a lot unresolved between them, but that didn’t mean he had any intention of departing alone. “Yes you can. You definitely can’t stay here!”

“You banished me.”

Arthur’s laughter rung out, sadly coarse with no happiness. “Considering that Camelot isn’t even mine anymore and we’re going to another kingdom, that’s a null point. You can’t stay here forever.”

“I wasn’t going to. After you leave my life will hardly matter. Morgana and her army will hunt elsewhere. I’ll find another small village then, live there, start a new life.”

Better answer, but he still hated it. There was no certainty that Morgana wouldn’t be interested in her. The crazed woman turned her into a deer, didn’t she? “Morgana already attempted to take away your life. I’m not leaving you here to allow her another attempt.”

“It would be the third anyway.” Gwen quietly whispered.

_“What?”_

She looked him in the eye. “When Uther found us that day in the wood, before the guards took me to the cells, I saw her face. She was smiling. I think she is the one who told him we were there. For she knew I had feelings for you even though I tried to not make them so open. She has wanted me gone for some time now. I just don’t know why.”

Arthur frowned with anguish. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

She shrugged. “You had enough troubles to deal with.”

Arthur shook his head fervently. “She could have caused your death! You should have said something.”

Gwen responded strongly. “And what was I to say? Your father never would have listened. He slapped my cheek. Do you think he would have cared what some simple servant saw?”

“ _Slapped_ your cheek?” Arthur asked hotly.

Gwen lowered her head. “Yes. But it’s not important.” She lifted her head again, speaking firmly. “You must not let her take Camelot. You must fight to get it back. I know you are upset. But you are the true king.”

Taking a look at his own offending hands that had grabbed her in the throne room, Arthur felt miserable. So many things he hadn’t known about, including abuse against the woman he loved. Now it made inches of more sense. She had suffered through a lot to be with him. Maybe that was why Lancelot was the better choice. Not so much pain. “Is that why you wanted to be with him?”

Gwen frowned, not understanding.

“Lancelot. He could protect you better than I. Because obviously I didn’t do it well enough.”

She shook her head sadly, whispering. “No. I have told you. No matter what happened with him, I have always loved _you_. Wanted to be with you. I never truly felt that way for Lancelot. I desired him once, yes, but not like I felt for you. I honestly don’t know why I ki-

Arthur put up his hand, a bit still angry, but more just drained. He didn’t want to hear it again, and he didn’t really want to put her through it again.

“You don’t have to say it. You’ve said it enough. But you’re wrong. I want to rescue Camelot if I can. I want to help the people I care for. But I can’t win against Morgana. She has powers I can’t even think of grasping. All I can do Guinevere is fight with my sword.”

He laughed wryly. “Obviously I’m short of wisdom. Look at it. I trusted Morgana. That was wrong. I trusted my uncle. That was wrong.”

He twisted his fingers through his hair raggedly. “Since my father’s died, I’ve made every wrong decision. _Aaah…Agravaine_. He was my mother’s brother…” Arthur breathed out painfully.

Then he brought the rest of them out. “These rings, like the one I gave you, were hers. They mean _everything_ to me. But he thrust that in my face. I had to rush back into my chambers to get them. I had to against my own uncle and sister by blood. I didn’t believe Merlin’s warning, your warning, because I couldn’t believe that he would hate me that much. I don’t get it Guinevere. Am I that terrible? Were you right to not want me? Am I that awful? Do people hate me that much?”

Her heart tore at that. She wished she could tear at his selfish uncle for taking away his confidence, for ripping away Arthur’s crown that he wore inside his soul.

Crawling over the cavern ground, she pressed her palms against his cheeks, lifted Arthur’s falling head, fervently telling him, “People do not hate you. They love you more than you realize. They always have. You are their true leader. They will never follow Morgana or your uncle.

I…love you. I have always. You must believe Arthur. You are the true king.”

Holding his cheeks fiercely, she stated, “Don’t sit here and wallow in your pities. That is not the Arthur I love and care so much for. Stop saying you can’t fight against her. Stop acting like you are alone in this. _Because you are not._ You have everyone with you. She and Agravaine want to tear you apart. I don’t know why. I guess they just want your throne so badly. But don’t let them. Don’t let them take it from you Arthur.”

“What, my crown? My title?” He remarked dryly. “That’s all gone.”

She lifted his face before he could let it fall. She fingered his skin tightly. “No. Not those. They are immaterial. They are not why the people love you.” She touched his chest, flattened her palm against it. “Don’t let them take this. Don’t let them break it. Fight against them. Fight like the king I have always known you will be. Fight for Camelot, Arthur. _FIGHT_.”

He looked down at her hand, back up to her lips, feeling it strong within him, how her resolve could drain his fear. Make him believe. Make him want. Make him…

Need.

His lips came against hers. Guinevere held tight to him. But this time the kiss was not as brutal as it had been yesterday.

_This time…_

He pulled away, grasping her hand. “Come on.”

“Arthur.”

“I won’t leave here without you.” He told her firmly.

She finally nodded, insisting though first. “You will fight.”

Arthur nodded back, whispering, “If you are by my side.”

It meant nothing really. Nothing more than love.

Marriage…

_If_ it was to be…

If queen was in her destiny…

Would have to wait.

She smiled slightly, felt him pull her halfway up. She let him.

They’d go together.

To Ealdor.

***

In the dawning mist once again Merlin met with the dragon.

“You brought the people here, enchanting them. Can you do the same, keeping our enemies from here?”

The dragon cocked his head at the question, before giving answer. “Yes, young warlock I believe I can. Against mere mortals that is. I’m not so sure against the witch.”

“Good.” Merlin doubted Morgana would leave her new kingdom. “I need you to keep watch over Ealdor. If Helios’s armies plan to invade it, keep them away.”

“You understand young warlock I cannot for an eternity keep them away. The spell will break with time.”

“Understood.” Merlin whispered. He hoped by that time they’d find Arthur and then soon after that be ready to depart Ealdor, start the battle for Camelot. Return it to its rightful king.

***

It was after hours of travel since an early morn’ departure from the cavern, they found her within the wood. Hearing Arthur’s gasp, Gwen fretted that maybe his injuries were plaguing him. “I told you that we should rest more. You are still recovering.”

He said nothing, just stared. Gwen turned to his line of vision, seeing the young mare, her coat and mane mottled with forest debris and dirt. But underneath it all she had familiar lines and shades of white and gray. “I know this horse. I rode her often in Camelot, took her to Ealdor.”

Slowly Arthur nodded his head, angry tears filling his eyes.

“Arthur?” Gwen’s fingers moved over his cheek, stroked it questioningly. He looked so miserable. “Arthur, what is it?”

“I put Sarya on this mare before departing Camelot, sending her ahead of me. Then I went the opposite direction, like I said before, to get Helios’s men to chase me instead. But here now is the horse with no rider. She…”

It was too much. Arthur’s heart panged. Again, he had failed. “This is my fault.” He grasped Gwen’s dark curls. “If I had just believed you and Merlin, none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t be d-

Gwen’s fingers firmly pushed upon his lips, her eyes strong, intent. “Enough. You don’t know that was the outcome. Maybe she just left the horse behind. Arthur…instead of fearing, hold onto hope.”

He had little though, shaking solidly. So much he could deal with, but when knowing his Camelot was safe. Instead, his people were scattered. A mad woman, who just happened to be his sister, had taken over. His uncle betrayed him, hated him. And now…now Sarya…

“Guin-

His voice faltered. Feeling his shudders, Gwen caught him, bolstered his chest against her shoulders before he could fall, tendering her fingers into his hair, silently giving him remorse. Because no words would hold. Not now.

***

With the dragon watching over Ealdor, Merlin felt his birth village, his mother and Gaius especially, were secure enough for him and Gwaine to leave. They started trekking through the woodland as midday passed. Merlin hoped it would lead them to Arthur, and maybe even by some miracle, to Gwen.

***

As day darkened to night Gwen started a small campfire to keep them warm, the mare they found tied nearby. Arthur despondently sat upon a fallen log a few feet away, shaking his head when she asked if he was hungry. She had found more berries, but his mood was too troubled to eat.

Gwen sighed at his lack of answer and kneeled in front of him, fingering at the bandages covering his chest. It was such an intimate thing to do, but safe also. It was nursing, tending to his wounds, something she didn’t have to explain so much, something that wouldn’t shatter her vulnerable feelings.

For long moments Arthur just watched her, head lifted enough now to see how she tenderly untied each bandage, pressing her fingers lightly against his skin, getting him to flinch for a moment before he relaxed his breath. When she brushed across his exposed nipple though, he grasped her hand like it was alive with flame and had burned him.

“What are you doing?”

Gwen blushed slightly, feeling how tightly he was holding onto her. “I’m sorry. But I needed to check. Make sure there is no infection.”

Once again his emotions were loose, frayed, like strings unraveling, finding no bolster. He couldn’t stop thinking of Sarya, what her fate might have been, and how it was his fault. And he couldn’t take being touched so gently by hands that made his body hot. Yearning. “Is there?”

She looked up into his eyes, blue flashes underneath the line of stars in the sky, skin ablaze with a golden glow from the flickering fire before them. “No. I’ll just retie them all now.” She looked, down, away from the piercing light of his eyes, fixated on the bandages, getting them back into place. Not ready for when his fingers grasped firmly to her cheeks, bringing her head up. “Arthur…” She whispered.

It was enough to undo him. He grasped her wrist tightly to stop her hand from fussing with his bandages, pushed his fingers through her curls of hair, tangled awfully by her time away from civilization. It didn’t matter. Women like her had natural elemental beauty that no bits of face powder could even produce. _Natural._ “He didn’t touch you?” He asked, moving his hands over the shimmery material of her outfit.

“Who?”

“Helios. He had you wear this outfit, but he didn’t touch you, right?”

Gwen firmly shook her head. “No. I told you. He did nothing to me.”

A piece of a smile edged his lips before they straightened again. “Good.” Arthur knew she had been touched by Lancelot. Kissed by him. He saw it, disgustedly. But it would burn even more to know that a man like Helios touched her against her will. That would bring on fury’s explosion.

“Do you think I wanted him to?” Gwen asked suddenly, watching the shock fill Arthur’s eyes.

“What?”

“Well you hate me for kissing Lancelot.”

He shook his head, fingers descending to her lips, feeling them tremble under his contact. “I don’t hate you. I could never…” He let it hang there. She turned to go, but then he was slipping away from the log, and pressing against her.

It was not wild and hard like it had been in the cavern. Although he grasped the thin material of her outfit, he slowly lowered her to the ground. Like a flower’s petal’ surroundings her hair cascaded outward. His lips descended and she arched her back to meet him. But then suddenly her fingers pressed upon his lips.

Arthur pulled away with reluctance, but even stronger questioning.

“Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head adamantly.

He whispered the truth. “Because I don’t want to. I know I’ve been…that we….but I _don’t_ want to cause you pain, Guinevere. I swear that.”

She held back her tears, in a flux of happiness and too much emotion to contain. “I know. I just want you to understand that the night you proposed to me Arthur was the happiest night I’ve ever lived. All I wanted was to be your wife. Truly.”

This was probably where he should say something to match her expression, but he didn’t trust his voice and the words that would come out of it. So just giving a thoughtful gaze, he murmured softly against her ear, “I don’t hate it. Not you in it anyway. You’re too beautiful to look awful in it.”

She felt her chest heave at that, but then before she could react fully his lips were once again searching out hers. And she was once more arching above the ground, seeking as much of him as she could get. In Camelot, propriety would win out. But here in the woods alone with him after marriage plans had been abandoned, she just wanted him in any way, any fashion.

So she moaned, and twisted to the feral feel of his hands exploring her body through her clothing. She palmed his chest, thrust her tongue against his, hearing his depth reaching groan as he trembled against her. His hands grasped her breasts and she pushed her fingers up over his face, tangled them into his hair, pulling him in closer.

Hearing him moan, she barely got past her lips…

“Arthur…

Please…”

It was enough. This wasn’t using her. This wasn’t hurting her. She wanted it just as much as he needed it and so he pulled at the top of her clothing, bringing it down her shoulder, watching as the fabric tightened against her breasts, making him hungry for her.

But then suddenly without warning he stopped. Lifting up onto his knees, he pulled away from her pulsing body.

 

“No…” She started to protest, an uninhibited moan, but he pressed his hand against her mouth. “Shhhh…I heard something.”

Branches snapped under pairs of feet. Feeling his hand on her arm, Gwen moved against Arthur, lifting up the shimmery top’s sleeve back securely to her shoulder.

There was movement within the branches. Flickering shadows upon the ground.

“Arthur?”

Scrambling to his feet, he grasped his sword that had been driven into the soil. The shadow became a fully materialized form and without hesitation Arthur swung. The man from Helios’s army screamed out with pain. But there was another on his heels.

Gwen sat up rapidly, moving until she was against the fallen log, hearing Arthur warn for her to stay out of the way.

A third man came from behind though. He pushed his long dirty nailed fingers abusively into her waist. Gwen cried out and Arthur whipped around, feeling a sharp pain in his chest.

“Arthur!” Gwen screamed, biting the hand that was trying to lift her up to her feet. The man howled in pain and she moved away, concentrating on the one Arthur was fighting, seeing the man she loved doubled over in pain.

Getting his fallen sword from the ground, she thrust it at the offending man, the blade cutting into his stomach. He fell over and she heaved a sigh. But the other man was still behind her. Holding his sword out, he got ready to slash her throat.

Seeing it, Arthur pulled the blade out from man she had just stabbed, and on his knees, yelling at the woman he had nearly married to get out of the way, he thrust the bloodied blade at her offender, killing him by cutting through his heart.

With it all over almost as rapidly as it begun, Gwen looked down at the carnage. There were three offending men now dead, blood flowing onto the ground. Feeling weak and sick, after moments ago experiencing tingles of passion for the man and king she loved, Gwen looked away, her emotions like unraveling twine.

Getting his breath back, Arthur wrapped his arm around her waist, getting her to stand with him. Seeing her upset, feeling plenty of his own, he whispered against her cheek. “It’s okay. We’re safe.”

She pressed into his chest and he held her tightly. But when her lips started to graze upward, desiring to meet his, he shook his head, negating their direction. “I have to get rid of the bodies.”

She looked down at the stained ground, still sickened by the sight. Then remembering what had nearly knocked him down, she touched Arthur’s chest, undid one of the bandages, viewing the damage with upset. “It’s bleeding again.”

“Just lightly.” He consoled, even as he flinched when her fingers pressed. Sighing, she fixed the bandages, thinking he was probably right. The bleeding would stop. But the attack had soured the mood of before. “Arthur…”

He pressed his fingers against her lips. “It’s better.”

She looked up at him questioningly.

He gently created distance between them. “That we were interrupted.”

Gwen’s face blanched, before she lowered it. Hurt.

He almost gave into it and if he had-

“You didn’t want to be with me.”

He shook his head at that strongly, grasping her cheek. “No. Not true. But it doesn’t matter that I _do_ want to be with you Guinevere. Because I can’t. I just…

Can’t.”

Now she moved away. “Because of Lancelot, because I-

He brought his hand up, getting her to stop. “Because after what happened with you and him I still love you.”

She gave a smile of hope at that. He wasn’t finished though.

“But I don’t know if I trust you. Even more importantly, I don’t trust myself. Because I should have seen it. I should have known…no matter what. You’d still want him.”

“Arthur…” Her hand caught his arm before he could leave to take care of the bodies. “That’s not true. I don’t.”

“Why did you kiss him then?” He asked quietly, sick of inflicting hurt, just still needing to know in some vile way, vile because it probably would be no true remedy. There was none.

She shook her head miserably. “I don’t know.”

Arthur sighed at that, seeing her pain, and caring about it. Trying to find reason. “Maybe it was because I didn’t defend you enough. Should have been stronger with my father, my uncle and everyone else.”

“Arthur-

His hand rose again. “No. We keep going around this and it’s not worth it. Just hurts us both. I know you love me. But you wanted him too. And that…makes it hard Guinevere. Hard to love you back because…

It scares me. To not be enough. To act like I did in the throne room if I’m not. I’m afraid to be with you. Afraid to be hurt. Afraid to inflict it.

Afraid.”

He grasped her arms quickly, tightly, making her shudder, her eyes going wide, and then he just let go. Feeling her breath flutter she watched him leave. Not sure what to say. Just wishing that awful night never happened.

***

There were little flurries of activity within the wood. The problem was they were certain that it came from more than just nature. Merlin felt assured that the dragon would keep Ealdor safe, but if Morgana’s men were within the wood he feared for Arthur and especially Gwen still. It bothered him terribly that the dragon never saw her and that she hadn’t shown up in Ealdor. It was too many days without anyone knowing of her whereabouts.

A hand waved in his direction. Merlin caught Gwaine’s cautious look and halted the slow walk of his horse. Gwaine whispered direction and Merlin noticed the increased movement of the tree branches. It could mean coming danger. Gwaine whipped out his sword with grace while Merlin reached for his borrowed one with a little less precision.

Ready to strike, each breathed a sigh of relief as the _intruders_ came into full view.

It was Leon and Percival who had been circling back and forth some through the wood after Helios’s men started stalking them, halting the lengths of their progress. That was unfortunate, but now with the four of them together they should be able to get farther.

At least Merlin hoped. For now, it was getting late, and leading a full on pursuit in the evening through the wood was just too treacherous. They’d make camp and then be on their way again in the morning.

***

When it was time to sleep once again neither had suitable bedrolls, but more importantly, after such a close call, rest for both didn’t seem a good idea. Arthur almost thanked it as proper excuse to bring distance between them. Sleeping close to her the night previous had been necessary for warmth in the cold cavern’s interior, but that couldn’t extract the emotional heaviness of it all. Already his heart was being pulled brutally by having to leave Kingdom and not knowing Sarya’s or anyone else’s fate.

“We can’t take another chance. Helios’s men could have done us in, especially with me injured and you malnourished. One of us needs to stay on alert. You need sleep the most. I’ll take watch.”

Gwen knew that practically he was right. Only one of them was truly trained in how to use a sword and him being the man he was just _expected_ to be the defender. But his injuries were still not fully healed and as for one of them being more tired than the other, she thought that argument of his was a weak one. She stood up to him now,, shaking her head adamantly.

“It is not right that you are the only one to do so. You are hurt still. You could not have fought those men from earlier, alone. I assisted when one of them nearly stole your life away.”

Arthur sighed at that raggedly, holding some of the thin flimsy material of her outfit. Sure, she was right, but he never had been one to easily admit that he needed others help physically. And he had no intention of relenting on who took watch. “Look. I am grateful for your assistance. It wasn’t easy for me to fight them and honestly I don’t know if I could have taken them on that well enough alone.”

“Then it’s decided. We both stay awake.”

Arthur started to argue that point so she did the one thing that she knew would silence his lips. Stepping forward, actually pressing her breasts intentionally against his chest, just making sure to not affect his hurt areas, she raised her hands to his hair, tangled her fingers within the lank messy strands and kissed him wetly. With as much heat she could muster, until his groan was eliciting and his arms were bringing her in. And thus the kiss continued, long, persuasive.

When it was done, she kept hold of his shoulder and neck, fixing her eyes strongly on his, shaking her head when he seemed to want to protest. “It’s best. You know. We stay up together to face any danger.”

He actually smiled a little now, still affected by her kiss, his heart shaken and awaken all the same. “No wonder I picked you for my queen.”

Tears filled her eyes at that. He patiently brushed at them as a few found their way past her lids, and then his mind opened again, he thought of his just spoken words from the heart, desiring to amend them. For he sent her far from Camelot. He had decided to not marry her.

Dreading what he might say, she pushed her fingers against his lips. “Don’t talk. Please.”

He nodded slowly, and taking hold of his sword, sat against one of the tree trunks. She did the same with one of the fallen swords of their enemies, now cleaned by the soil. Noticing how she held it wrong, Arthur lifted his hand away from his sword, locked it over hers. “Not like that. Like this.”

As he tutored her in how to hold a sword properly, her closeness was inevitable, her breasts brushing up against his shoulder, but he did not flinch away, her warmth causing him enjoyment actually.

***

Merlin sometimes had awful dreams in Camelot, ones of foreboding, visions, and this night he felt them signal of presences. It was so strong that he spoke aloud, getting Percival to turn to him questioningly.

“What was that Merlin?”

Gwaine was on watch now with Leon. Percival had been resting soundly until Merlin’s voice.

The sorcerer turned to the knight, smiling some, giving a shake of his head. “No. Nothing. Just my stomach talking.”

Percival chuckled at that and went back to sleep, but Merlin remained with his eyes open. Arthur was near. But back further. And Gwen…she was somewhere close too.

***

_Oh._ His neck was stiff, and his chest sore in many places. This was most definitely not his bed in Camelot, but the wild forests that surrounded it. He recalled where he was and why, and realized he had fallen asleep. That wasn’t good. They were supposed to be keeping watch to make sure that Helios’s men didn’t have the advantage in an attack. Arthur’s eyes lifted up to the blue sky peeking through the tall evergreens. It should be black, night, not blue to signal day.

A cold prickle of fear ran through him as he started to realize with alarm too that he was alone. Hours ago it must have been when night was still surrounding them, she’d been right beside, but now he saw her nowhere.

The cold prickle of fear was turning into a rush of ice edged trepidation. If he had fallen asleep and they had been found was it possible that she…

_Oh Camelot._

His kingdom taken was already slashing at his heart, but the thought of her-

_“GUINEVERE!”_

His voice was hoarse, barely carried. So panicked, he didn’t come to his usual sense that would question why she was taken and not him. After all, he was the former king they so badly wanted. All he could think about was the woman he loved, being lost to him once again.

Jumping up to his feet, he searched with panicked eyes, got ready to utter it again when he spotted her just a few feet away, calmly and quietly tending to the found mare.

“Arthur?”

Breathing out relief he ran toward where she stood.

Gwen startled as she felt his frantic hands grasp her shoulders, pulling her in tightly against his chest, seeming to forget any of his wounds. She reprimanded gently. “Careful. You’re still hurt.”

He didn’t care about his injuries, the fear finally draining away, before his firmness took over. His eyes fixed on hers without wavering as he pulled away some. “Why did you let me sleep? God in Heaven, I thought maybe they had taken you. We had a deal. We would stay awake together through the night. I don’t remember-

She pressed her fingers against his lips. “I coaxed you to sleep when morning came. Only just. You looked so exhausted.”

He frowned at that, taking in the jagged lines of red in her eyes. “And what about you? It’s I who should have coaxed you to sleep. Not eating enough, not resting enough, this outfit will soon be hanging on you as laughable that is. You’ve done too much for me.”

She looked away, but Arthur brought her attention back to him with a lift of her chin using his finger. “Guin-

She cut through. “I can’t sleep that well within the open wood anyway. Not after what Morgana did. Those first few nights I had nightmares. Of being hunted.”

His lips found her forehead, his heart fluctuating. He kissed her softly, achingly, the bravest words evolving finally, flooded within his most quavering shames. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, the decent one, but I was wrong. I just made you easily Morgana’s prey.”

It was an apology without holes for all that anger he first felt was now fading away, dissolving into regret. If he hadn’t banished her, she never would have been subject to his sister’s cruelty. He did it then because he couldn’t stand being around her, not after what happened with Lancelot. And he told himself too it was the best thing for her, for the kingdom, but not if he had known it would result in her being hunted down like a wild animal, nearly possibly taken by his own arrow.

His touch, his kiss was too much. Gwen could barely hold onto her stance of bravery anymore. She leaned into Arthur’s embrace, feeling it envelope her too solidly. The recall of running through the woods, racing in desperation to get away was still all too fresh. Hearing then the rich timbre of the man she loved, how he had seen her as nothing but a beast to kill, it made her shudder again to remember the horror, the dread of being his hunted prize without him realizing her for who she really was.

Just the day before she comforted him when he feared Sarya’s outcome, something he still had no answers to. Now it was his turn and more starkly it was what his heart hissed at him to do, grasping for her closeness and security. “Hush. They were only ill dreams. I won’t let Morgana ever hurt you again. No matter what happens later, for now we continue on to Ealdor together.”

Her head fell underneath his shoulder. Arthur found himself awkwardly rubbing her back, just wanting to keep her safe.

And soon enough it had his desired effect. In the lock of his arms, exhausted and drowned emotionally…she fell asleep. Quietly and gently he laid her down upon the ground before spotting another small animal that with his sword he was sure he’d be able to get, provide them with some more needed food.

***

“You want to what?”

Merlin knew he sounded like a crazed fool, but he was so sure of it. “Go back. We went too far. We need to return to-

Leon started to protest loudly, but Gwaine, giving Merlin an odd smile for a second, turned to the other men with conviction. “Look, if Merlin thinks he’s back there then…well he probably is.”

“But-

“This is-

The arguments were cut off, Gwaine winning out. Merlin once again was inwardly thankful for his belief in him.

***

Gwen had felt stirrings of anger when she found out that Arthur made sure she slept some that morning, but when she saw the cooked animal, another wild hare, she had tempered her feelings. It was good food again, once more spiced by natural herbs he found within the wood. She had to wonder then that sometimes maybe Arthur wasn’t as helpless as he seemed in matters of practicality. He was just so used to the royal trappings that he didn’t really _like_ having to tend to things that he felt servants were better acquainted for. Still, once again she had to help him with the fire before he burnt their breakfast solid.

Now, late afternoon, as he checked the ground she watched him warily from her perch atop the little mare. His hand lifting finally from its palmed position on the soil, he rejoined her on the mare, climbing in back. Feeling once more the warmth of his waist against hers, his strong thighs so nearby, and his hand lock over her front with a bit of spontaneous possessiveness, she asked, “Is there a problem?”

Feeling the sun shining through the trees, a bit of irritation against his still healing wounds, Arthur said nothing.

She touched his arm. “Is there?”

He let out a troubled sigh. “Those are tracks of horses’ hooves, a group of them. It could be Helios’s men. We need to be ready for another possible ambush.”

Gwen didn’t like the sound of that. Both of them still hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. And the soakings of new blood had been staining his bandages again since last night’s attack, nothing terribly awful, but enough to bring on her concern and keep her routinely adjusting the worn cloth. He started to take out his sword, but she pressed her palm against his wrist.

“What?” He asked roughly.

She focused on his wounds. “If you’re right I need to fix this more solidly.”

He had given up fighting her on playing nurse long ago. Those dark fixed eyes never relented. “Alright. But just for a few moments.”

They both carefully got down from the horse and he leaned against a tree trunk as she tended to him, asking, “How far away do you think Ealdor is now?’

Arthur gave a confused shake. “Actually I’m not sure. We seem to be leaving the denser wood. But Ealdor is still mostly surrounded by the thinner forests even. And my skills of navigation are terribly off right now, especially without a map and not having any set course. Still-

He stopped his drabbling conversation, seeing that she was lifting her head with interest now.

“What?”

“I thought I heard something.”

Pushing her gently away he moved to get his sword, but then she was reacting to another sound and standing up on her feet, moving away from him.

“Guinevere!” Arthur hissed, keeping his voice as low as he could, but she was moving to the other trees. Fighting to get up from the evergreen trunk’s bolster, Arthur noticed now that she was almost running. He hissed at her again, catching up and latching firmly onto her arm, but then he too was seeing what she was.

Gwen cried out happily. “Merlin!” She rushed to get to him as the servant too ran to her excitedly. Arthur let out a howl of happy laughter, getting a bear hug from an overzealous Percival that made him hiss in pain.

Hearing it, Gwen pulled back from Merlin quickly, shaking her head as a regretful Percival now indeed got it. “Careful, he’s hurt.”

The young knight’s face blanched. “Sorry Sire.”

Arthur shook his head with a smile, feeling the pain already fading as his wounds were healing fast from Gwen’s continued tending. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Merlin was so relieved. Not only had they found Arthur, but Gwen too. He was so happy to see her safe. Making his way to Arthur, he now moved in. Arthur gave him a wary squinting look, before relenting with a teasing smile, allowing Merlin’s awkward attempts at a gentle hug. “You took care of him?” Merlin asked Gwen after pulling away.

She shrugged. “We took care of each other.”

Arthur asked then, “Gaius?”

Merlin grinned. “He’s fine. Not a scratch.” He gestured to his horse. “We’ve been looking for you. Thought maybe-

Arthur rolled his eyes. He had enough emotion for days now. His servant was perfect fodder. “Ah, don’t be such a girl, Merlin.”

“Cabbagehead.”

All these little bits of respectful affection and teasing rants continued. Leon gave Arthur his cloak to have something warmer to wear around his healing wounds. Gwaine moved to Gwen to give her his. “I’m _so_ happy we found you.”

She smiled at his kind care as he wrapped the cloak around her. Feeling Arthur’s eyes watching she looked to see if there was any anger or disapproval. Although his gaze was wary, he didn’t seem upset.

It was the biggest miracle of news to hear that Sarya was safely back in Ealdor. She could feel the emotion ringing from Arthur, finally a piece of calm settling him as he looked grateful, straining to hold back his happy tears. Looking around though, she acutely felt the absence, asked with expectance, “So Elyan is back in Ealdor, watching over the people?”

No one said anything, making tension knot in Arthur’s muscles. Then Gwaine was patting her shoulder, looking to his king for a moment before telling Gwen plainly, “I’m sorry. Percival and I tried. But she captured him. Elyan is back in Camelot.”

_“No.”_ Gwen’s hand clutched her heart, her face filling with dreaded fear.

Arthur commenced to make his way to her, but then she was pressed against Gwaine’s friendly hold, Merlin circling around her too. Arthur swallowed down his reaction, letting them comfort her, talking to Percival and Leon instead about tactical maneuvers. Which was a laugh, because he had none. And because his heart was tied to hers. Wanting to be the one holding her.

But still just a tiny bit…afraid..and ashamed.

***

“Sarya.”

Seeing the young girl again, taken care of, in fresh clothing if maybe a bit worn, he moved forward as quickly he could sweeping the child up into his arms without thinking much.

The ride to Ealdor had been mostly silent out of respect for Gwen’s pain over Elyan. Arthur had wanted to go find him right away, but he knew Leon was right about how much of a mistake that would be without properly preparing back in Ealdor.

It had been awful watching his once intended wife in so much pain for the potential loss of her brother. Too late to console her, he achingly watched instead the knights and Merlin take their turns. That left him just a patch of the latest hours of evening to give her an awkward hug for a few stray weak moments before she held herself away from him. It hurt more than he wanted to let his heart admit, to watch her just sit there so despondently, hugging herself with dull infliction in her eyes.

So now having Sarya alright and to hold in his arms without reservation, Arthur clutched her tightly. Feeling her relieved tears against his cheek, he kept strong hold of the girl, spying Hunith watching on with tender expression before she looked to Gwen. Then Hunith used her mother’s stroke, gathering Gwen into her warm arms.

After they departed together, Hunith holding to the weeping woman he loved, Arthur turned away, focusing on Sarya.

“I am so grateful you’re okay.”

She smiled bravely. “I’m glad you are too King Arthur.”

*

It was many long moments after, watching with a wondering smile as Sarya allowed the other children to keep her away from her worries about her parents with the promise of children’s unique penchant for play, that Arthur entered Hunith’s home. He spotted him at the back of it, tending to one of the hurt villagers.

“Ah, will you get me that bucket of water?”

Arthur picked it up hurriedly, handing it to the man.

“Thank you Hunith.”

“You’re welcome, but I’m not Hunith.”

Gaius turned around at that with surprise. Seeing the king, injured, but most definitely alive, he let out a gasp of happiness. Tentatively his hands started to touch at the young man’s waist. He had cared for him since he was a babe after all. But then he remembered.

Arthur didn’t care though. He held on and pulled Gaius against him, grateful that one of the most important citizens of Camelot was still well. “I’m glad to see you Gaius.” He whispered emotionally.

The elder physician whispered the same, but then, a frown.

Arthur knew why. “She’s here. I brought her. Guinevere is safe.”

Gaius smiled with peace. _Thank goodness._ He whispered it before he could remember he was voicing it aloud. “I kept my word to you Alana. Or the king helped me anyway.”

“Who was Alana?”

“Gwen and Elyan’s mother.”

“You knew her?”

“Very well, Sire.”

Arthur asked with interest, “What was she like?”

Gaius smiled with fond remembrance, before his face started to show more soberness. “Kind. Hard working. Like Gwen. Very strong. She had to be. Her illness was a tough one to take.”

Arthur nodded his head. “She cared for me once?”

Gaius didn’t ask how he knew, just gave an affirmative. “Yes Sire. You and Gwen.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked quietly.

Gaius reached for his hand, held it. “She brought you both with her once. You sometimes cried a lot as a babe. She laid you down side by side…

And you had no more tears. You were calm.”

Arthur lowered his head, stunned by the story, and his heart hurting still so solidly. He had to do something. He had to…

But first.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this Gaius. I’m afraid. More afraid than I’ve ever been. Those people are looking to me to guide them, to lead them and I don’t know how I can against Morgana. She’s too strong. Her army killed Sir Paul. Sarya is lucky to be alive. I don’t even know still if her parents are. If I hid them well enough. Guinevere tells me I am brave enough. But I don’t know. It hurts so much that they betrayed me. My mother’s brother. I thought someone of her, brother to her, would never do this to me. I’m so ashamed. Merlin warned me. Guinevere knew. And I did nothing. I failed.”

Gaius shook his head, holding firmly to Arthur’s hand. It was not so surprising. He was no more than a man after all. They all looked to him for so much and yet of course he was of flesh and blood. The bandages upon his chest spoke of that. It was wrong to expect so much of him. But he was wrong too in thinking he had to fight this alone.

“Arthur, I have told you before, you have many with you. They aid you quietly, at danger to themselves, but they do it because they believe not only in you my King, but in the world you want to create. One of peace. One of love. Don’t let those who want to destroy that shatter you. There is a tomorrow that we will all face with you. Don’t fear for you are not alone. Sire, you are my King. And I walk with you. I will fight with you. But _you_ must lead that fight.

You must believe Arthur.”

He observed as the young man lifted his head, seemed a bit stronger, braver, if perplexed. “ _Why?_ Why do you all still believe?”

Gaius smiled peacefully. Tomorrow they’d be at war, but if anyone could lead it, that would be Arthur. He just knew. It was his destiny. “Because you are the one and true king of Camelot, Arthur. That is why I believe.”

Arthur listened to those words, trying to take them in. Trying to feel them. Trying to be strong. Whispering only what he could. Still needing something. Still just a little out of reach. But grateful. “Thank you Gaius.”

“Thank you Sire. For not giving in.”

A voice of wisdom he’d be wise to heed.

***

“Gwen.”

A small pair of arms hugged her solidly. Gwen leant against them with straggles of emotion. “Oh Sarya. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

The girl sat down beside her at the fire. “Sir Paul was very brave. So was King Arthur. I just hope Mama and Papa are okay.”

“I hope so too.” Gwen whispered.

The girl touched her cheek. “I’ll pray that your brother comes through okay too, Gwen. Elyan is always nice to me. And he has that very scary axe that I kind of like.”

Gwen laughed softly at that, smiling. “Yes.”

*

Sarya left her after a short while. Gwen just watched the fire, peace ripped out of her heart. She hoped…she’d see him again.

***

Arthur came out of Hunith’s home, seeing the lone figure sitting by the fire, and Merlin just a bit beyond. He walked over to his servant, letting out a sigh.

Merlin turned to him. Arthur was wearing a worn coat now, given to him by one of the villagers. It oddly enough made him look nothing more than one of the simple folk, especially that his master’s hair was still in disarray. “So you found her.”

Arthur shook his head. “More she found me. She saved me from one of Morgana’s army.”

Merlin smiled softly at that. Looking over, he saw that Arthur had no such smile. “Sire.”

Arthur laughed, wryly like he had every time someone tried to say he was still anything of notice. “Why even call me that still?”

Merlin responded firmly. “Because it is what you are.”

Arthur shook his head miserably.

Merlin continued, wanting to get him to stop being so morose and see. “Okay, so you’re also a dollphead.”

“Merlin.” Arthur weakly stated.

“A prat.”

“Merlin.” Arthur said with a bit more edge.

“A cabbage head.”

“Alright that’s enough.” Arthur snarled.

“And not to mention a complete clotpole.”

“Merlin!”

The servant laughed at that cheekily, before sobering. “But you’re also my king. And I don’t care what Morgana or Agravaine did. You will always be that. The rightful king of Camelot.” He faced his friend definitively.

Arthur just sighed.

So Merlin started telling him about it, the sword, that they would go find tomorrow.

The one that Merlin secretly knew was specially Arthur’s for it was not just touched by magic, but crafted by the father of the woman he obviously…

Still loved.

*

And moments later, after Arthur ridiculed him a bit for his outlandish story of some sword in a stone, Arthur proved his feeling, by going to the lone figure sitting by the fire.

“Guinevere…”

She didn’t respond.

Arthur sighed, taking in her outfit, loaned by a villager. It included brown pants, boots, a fur vest, and a woolen designed shirt. “I like this one much better.” He told her with a cough.

She looked up at him questioningly.

Arthur attempted a cheeky smile. “Even if the other one was more revealing.”

She smiled a little too at that, before looking away.

Arthur got down to his knees, then brought his legs out, touching gently at her shoulder, whispering over it. “We will free him. I give you my word.”

She didn’t cry, just held still. Felt she didn’t have any tears left. But her voice broke. “We will?”

Tearing at his heart. Arthur gave up the fight for his dignity and his protective need for separation. His need for her was much stronger. Even if he shattered into the hope of tomorrow it didn’t matter, _as long as he shattered into it with her_.

He knew that now. Knew the answers to all his questions at the beginning of this wild story of his life. He loved her. There was no fear in that. No fear he couldn’t conquer anyway. He just couldn’t bear to watch her hurt anymore. Not alone.

“We will.” He pressed his lips against her forehead, rocking her in his arms. “I promise you Guinevere. And I promise this one…I will never break.”

She clung to his worn borrowed coat then, turning her face to melt against him. Crying out. “Arthur…”

“I’m here.” He held her tight, pressed wet kisses against her face. He’d fight this battle, lead it for Camelot. For Sarya. For Gaius. For Alana. For his mother, his father. For Merlin. For his knights.

And for…

_Always for her._

“You’re not alone. _I’m with you…_ ” He whispered, tangling his fingers wildly through her hair, holding her back so solidly his hand clamped from the pressure. “That’s what you told me when you were taking care of me.”

She turned to stare at him.

He smiled mildly. “In my feverish state I heard a bit of it, along with the tune of the song. I heard you say to me that I wasn’t alone. You saved my life. You were brave against that man.”

“But I…”

She started to say and he passionately cut it off. “No. I don’t care. You hear me? I don’t care. You hurt me, yes. It hurt what I saw. But I hurt you too. You showed me that. And now I don’t care. I just can’t take being without you. I can’t take watching you cry thinking you’re alone, because you never are. I can’t take that I pushed you into the forest and made you become a hunted animal. I can’t take fighting this battle tomorrow without you at my side. I’ve been afraid, Guinevere. Afraid to accept you into my life again. But I’ve been a coward to feel that. And I was foolish to bring us to this battle, to not believe the people who I should have trusted first. Never again.”

“But I did ki-

He cut her off, bringing her face up to his, whispering with fervency, _“I don’t care.”_

She looked into his blue eyes, ablaze with a fire that she hadn’t seen for so long, the flames lighting him up, making him strong. “I love you.” She whispered, clutching his cheeks, holding on so strongly because to lose him again would shatter her heart.

“I love you too.” He whispered back, holding her just as unremittingly.

She kissed him, rejoicing as he didn’t resist, as he smiled with temporary peace at her.

Because she brought it to him. _Always her_.

They sat together, coiled within, around each other. Loved and giving love.

And then of course he broke it, never patient enough for still quiet. “I guess we shared a bed together when we were not even walking.”

She turned back to him questioningly.

Arthur smiled. “When your mother was watching us. Gaius told me. I was---well…complaining…

Not crying, mind you.”

She giggled at that, couldn’t help but to. His face was so funny. And his lie was so silly.

“Just not very happy. And you…well…you were as quiet you always were, except for when you used to babble all around me because you desired me so much…”

She pinched his shoulder at that.

“Ow.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, wondering how it could be. She had no idea what they’d face tomorrow. How Elyan would be. But somehow with him…her king…her love…she could…

Arthur felt the same. His life was in turmoil, but with her back in it…

“So see, now I’ll share this one with you. Since yours back in Camelot is mine anyway.”

Gwen countered quickly. “We’ve already had this argument. As I recall we both came to the decision that your bed was too big for my little home.”

Arthur nodded his head. “True. But I was talking about the big one anyway.”

She stared at him.

Arthur smiled with meaning. “What’s mine is yours. What’s yours is mine…uh…er isn’t that how marriage works?”

She felt it then, against her finger the coil of rope, the ring. She looked down, felt him bring it over her finger, heard him ask emotionally,

“Will you marry me Guinevere?”

She looked around, at their outdoor setting, felt how they were sitting upon the cold hard ground, and thought how they were not even in their own clothing.

“No candles.”

She gestured.

Arthur nodded. “Right. No candles. Just a fire.”

She smiled. “I think I like it better.”

He curled up around her. “As do I.”

“I can’t be perfect for you.” She said brokenly. “I will never try to hurt you, please believe that. But I can’t take it back. What happened. I can’t be with you thinking that I will betray you in some way. Or thinking that I will never falter again. I have given you my _heart_ from the beginning of this. I don’t know why it happened, why I did what I did, but I know that I never meant to cause you pain.”

He pressed his lips against her forehead, whispering with meaning, “I don’t want you to be. I just want who you are. I’ve made my own mistakes, God in Heaven knows. Now let’s just learn from them…together. I know you never meant to hurt me. As I never meant to hurt you. I’ve been callous at times. I’ve looked the wrong way, listened to the wrong people. Sometimes I’ve even taken too much for granted. I had issues about him from the start. I didn’t say anything because he was gone. But I should have. You said you couldn’t be perfect for me and that’s not what I’m offering you anyway. No type of perfection. I just don’t want to spend my life without you, because a _taste_ of it was too much.”

She held still, uncertain.

And Arthur knew why. She was afraid like he had been. Life had no total assurances. Love wasn’t so predictable, _just right_. It was agony to be without. If he was going to shatter into pieces, he’d rather it not be alone. That was all. But he could feel it too. The hope for tomorrow. They’d enter it violently. But they’d enter it with each other.

“Say you will…” He whispered desperately, raining kisses down upon her face, needing her answer.

Like there could ever be a question of what it could be. Tomorrow they’d enter the storm of war.

Lives would be lost. Maybe even their own. But as long as he was at her side…

As long as…

_“I will.”_

***

_*Fin_

Thank you for reading. Feedback always adored.


End file.
